Travels with Hammy

After nearly a year of silence, I am returning to my travel blog to keep up with the busy months of travel that await. As a high school teacher this year, I found my time tied up in grading essays and creating PowerPoints, but, now that I am officially unemployed, I have no other commitments to keep me from writing. So begins a summer of new adventures!

Well, technically I have just returned from my first trip: a whirlwind tour of Argentina with my mom, dad, and sister Allison. In 13 days we hit up Santiago and Algarrobo in Chile and Buenos Aires, Bariloche, Mendoza, and Iguazú in Argentina. Whenever I travel with my parents, I never fail to be amazed at their resilience and take-on-anything attitude. We went zip-lining and rafting in Mendoza, took a boat under a waterfall at Iguazú, and biked up a small mountain in Bariloche. Incredible.

But now I am setting out on my own adventures, from Patagonia to the Galapagos Islands! For those of you interested in following along, I am including my itinerary below. Best wishes to you all! Check back for my next blog update!

Summer Travel Plans

Jan 3 - Jan 13: Argentina Trip with Family (Mendoza, Bariloche, Iguazú, Buenos Aires)

Jan 13 - Jan 18: Rest in Santiago

Jan 18 - Jan 23: Travel alone in Lake District (Pucón, Valdivia, Puerto Montt)

Jan 24 - Feb 3: Travel with Vale in Chilean Patagonia (Trek the ¨W¨ in Torres del Paine, Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales, Penguin Island)

Feb 3 - Feb 14: Travel with Aislinn and Emily in Argentinean Patagonia (Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, El Calafate, Chaltén)

Feb 15 - Feb 16: Travel back to Santiago, Chile

Feb 16 - Feb 29: Rest in Santiago

Feb 29 - March 20: Travel with Rubén to Ecuador (Quito, Galapagos Islands)

March 20 - March 27: Travel alone to Colombia (Cartegena, Tayrona National Park)

March 27 - April 5: Rest in Santiago

April 5: Flight home to Chicago!

"Y no se deprima
Tira para arriba
Carga vitaminas
Disfruta la vida!"
-Croni K, "Arriba la vida"

I never thought I'd see the day when Reggaeton would replace my thoughtful literary quotations, but the Croni K song "Arriba la Vida" seems the perfect way to begin this entry. The song has become an anthem for party-goers, with a feel-good, celebrate life chorus. Taking Croni K's words to heart, I have spent the last month soaking up every bit of life, traveling to remote islands, meeting new friends, and dancing until the sun comes up! In short, life is good.

"Ring" the Alarm: Las Vegas 2011!

My weeks at home in Libertyville flew by, enhanced with a few snowy runs with Dad and pre-dinner glasses of Chardonnay with Mom. While home, I successfully cooked seven meals, read fourteen books, and attempted to teach myself Latin--a goal abandoned after a mere two days of page-ripping frustration. On the weekends, I usually headed into the city to catch up with friends and enjoy the bustling nightlife. I was shocked to re-learn that a late night in Chicago ends at 2am and a mixed drink under four dollars is an anomaly. But, despite the early bedtimes and pricey cocktails, I had a great time reconnecting with ND classmates and even squeezed in a few runs along Lake Michigan.

Finally, just before Valentine's Day, the long-awaited, quadruple bachelorette weekend arrived! I had extended my stay at home so that I could attend this epic weekend and couldn't wait to spend time with my college roommates! I arrived at the Vegas airport early Friday morning, wandered through the rows of slot machines--apparently some folks can't wait for the casinos to start gambling--and headed to baggage claim. Two of the girls were there waiting for me and we ran to greet each other, jumping and hugging, our college selves resurfacing. We shoved our bags into the back of "Betty" the Beetle's minuscule yet surprisingly functional trunk and drove to...the Bellagio!

The rest of the girls arrived throughout the course of the day and we greeted each with the same gusto and enthusiasm. Jaclyn and I spent an hour sprucing up one of the Bellagio rooms for our bachelorette celebrations and then we geared up for a night on the town! Sashes were slung, head bobbers donned, and champagne glasses held high for toasting. Then, it was time for the main event: American Storm! The show met all expectations: cheesy coordinated dancing, intense bicep flexing, and dozens of costume changes. Without doubt, the highlight of the performance was getting Kathy on stage for a little close booty-shaking from one of the male dancers--also possibly the most traumatizing moment of her life.

The Bellagio!!

The Four Bachelorettes!

Put a ring on it!

The rest of the weekend was filled with late-night dancing, VIP treatment at the New York hotel, a thrilling afternoon jog on the strip, and our fair share of gambling. I seem to be cursed when it comes to the latter, though somehow I never lose when betting someone else's money. With my own, however, I am always amazed how fast it goes. I dropped $100 in under 2 minutes at a Roulette table and decided that I'd better stick to the dance floor. My friends, on the other hand, all came out ahead, some making over $300 of winnings! Then, all too soon, it was time to for goodbyes and see you at your (gasp) wedding!

A New Year, A New Home!

A few days after Las Vegas, I was on a plane again, this time headed back to Chile. As my TransVip raced across the Costenera (highway), I felt the thrill of homecoming, a strange sensation considering I couldn't be further from my real home. At the same time, I felt different, older and more independent, knowing that this year I wouldn't be part of a "community" or under the protective umbrella of Notre Dame. I was entering a new school where I would have to acclimate myself to new procedures, new colleagues, and a completely different group of students. It was comforting to return to a strong network of friends, an active social life, and a wide range of activities, but I knew this year would be distinct--maybe, even, better!

The driver deposited my two enormous, florescent pink bags at my side and sped away. I stood in front of my new apartment building for a few moments, straining my eyes upward to discern which apartment was mine. Then, I dragged my luggage inside and took the elevator up, up, up to the twelfth floor! No one was home so I dumped my things in the living room and then made my way to my bedroom. The apartment was whiter than hospital bedsheets--from the leather sofa to the tiled floor, the wallpapered walls to the recently painted ceiling. Color, I mused, will be the first thing I bring into this apartment.

My bedroom was quaint but appealing, with three closet doors stretching the entire length of the wall and a small walk-out balcony with an incredible view of the city. Opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the balcony, I could sense the vivacity of the city--the constant coming and going of cars and bicycles, the woman selling freshly trimmed flowers on the corner, the fearless pedestrians racing through street traffic. And there I stood, taking it all in, ready to dive back in.

In a few days, my small bedroom had transformed into a purple sanctuary: purple bedsheets, purple lamp, purple rug, even purple ribbons to tie the curtains! The apartment changed too; with a few more pictures on the walls, it no longer seemed so drearily white. My roommates, Vanessa and Melissa, and I hit it off from the start and, soon, the place felt like home.

The View from My Room

New Roomies!

Isla de Pascua

Thankfully, my travels were not quite finished and I was able to soak up some summer sun with a trip to Easter Island! Early Saturday morning, with backpacks full of snacks and water to save a few luca (Chilean cash), Megan and I were on a plane heading towards an island that the Rapa Nui people call "Te pito o te henua," the bellybutton of the world. After a few hours in the air, Megan tugged at the sleeve of my sundress and gestured towards the TV monitor. On most trips, the TV monitor is a moderately entertaining way to watch the flight's progress. This time, we watched the tiny white triangle inch across a screen of total blue Pacific; I silently prayed that the crew had been extra diligent in checking the plane's mechanics before take-off. But, there was nothing to do but enjoy the luxury of LAN--heavily cushioned seats, rich Carmenere wine, personal TV with the latest movies--and prepare to visit the most isolated place on the planet.

I confess that, prior to living in Chile, my knowledge of Easter Island was limited to a few googled images of the famous statues of enormous, expressionless human faces. Upon further recollection, however, I recalled visiting a naval museum in Norway when I was thirteen and pondering a large reed raft, a stranger amidst the warships and submarines. Now I know that it was, in fact, the Kon Tiki, the brain child of Thor Heyerdahl who sailed it from Chile to Easter Island to prove that the natives of South America had been the first denizens of the island. His theory has since been disproved and it is now widely established that Polynesian islanders from the west were the island's first inhabitants. Still, strange how, when we begin piecing together bits of our past, we often find that our experiences are interconnected.

I considered what I had read about Thor Heyerdahl and began to draw parallels between my own experiences and those of that hapless explorer. Like Thor, I was embarking on a new adventure--another year in Santiago, but this time at a new school and without the safety net of a program. I was embracing a new grade level, preparing to educate high school girls after three years of teaching second grade, and had just moved into a new apartment. This, I thought to myself, is my year of independence, my time to "grow up." And, really, what better way to celebrate than with a trip to Easter Island?

The plane descended and jolted to a bumpy landing. Megan and I debarked down a set of stairs directly onto the runway and began walking towards the tiny airport building. The skies gleamed blue and a fresh sea breeze brushed across our faces. A smiling Rapa Nui woman distributed yellow flowers of welcome and we scurried past to find bags and transportation--fifteen minutes late--in true Rapa Nui (and Chilean) fashion. Our transfer took us to Hotel Otai, a scattering of rooms surrounded by an abundance of tropical trees and flowers and a delightful palm tree-lined swimming pool. Megan and I quickly unloaded our bags and set off for Caleta Hanga Roa, the nearby harbor. There, we saw our first moai, a towering 20-ft. stone statue of a head facing inland. Incredible.

Pool at Hotel Otai

Moai at Caleta Hanga Roa

That night, Megan and I freshened up for a traditional Rapa Nui dance show. We arrived at 8:30PM, the only tourists who had signed up for the dinner option and were rewarded with overflowing plates of chicken, pork ribs, rice, potato salad, and greens, not to mention large glasses of pina coladas and red wine. After stuffing ourselves full, we headed to our front row seats for the show in all its chest-thumping, thigh-shaking glory. The sweat-drenched men stole the show though the women did their share of impressive hip bouncing. At one point, I was dragged--willingly--on stage for some booty-shaking. We topped off the night with a picture of two of the most muscular men of the crew and then headed back to the hotel to get some shuteye.

Learning Rapa Nui Moves...

On Sunday, I woke up early for a long run along the coast and was completely blown away by the pink-tinged skies and solemn rows of moai along the shores. Once I left the harbor, I felt like I was the only soul on the island--I didn't see a single person during the entire hour-long run. Back at the hotel, Megan and I enjoyed a rico breakfast buffet and then headed out for a day of trekking. First, we hiked up Rano Koa, one of the three volcanoes that formed the island thousands of years ago. At the peak, we were awestruck by the beauty of the lagoon inside the crater. Pictures cannot do it justice. We walked along the crater's rim until we reached a small ceremonial village called Orongo. This collection of stone shelters was once the site of the annual birdman cult, in which natives competed to bring back the first sooty tern egg from a nearby islet. The winner became that year's tangata manu (birdman), a coveted and respected title. Looking over the cliff edge that competitors had to scale to reach the islet, I was amazed that any of them even reached the islet, much less returned with an egg!

Morning Run Photos

Hiking up Rano Koa

The Crater = AMAZING!

Friends We Met Along the Way...

Orongo Ceremonial Village

One hike finished, we returned to Hanga Roa and roused a sleeping taxi driver to take us to the base of Ma'unga Terevaka, the tallest volcano on the island (507m or 1,665 ft). A few hours later, we had reached the peak, the only spot in the island with 360 degree view of the Pacific ocean. It was misty and slightly rainy so it was difficult to see much, but it was still impressive to consider the total isolation of this tiny island in the grandeur of the Pacific. We hiked back and treated ourselves to a fancy dinner at a French restaurant, Au Bout Der Monde. Lovely!

Highest Point on the Island

Monday morning we enjoyed another delicious breakfast and then walked to the harbor for our first scuba dive! Neither Megan nor I had any previous experience but the guide assured us that it was easy so we signed the forms, struggled into our wetsuits, and hopped into a boat headed for the coral reef. Easter Island is known by the scuba world for its crystal-clear waters--the seabed can be seen at over 50 meters deep--but, also, for the lack of abundant sea life. Without certification, Megan and I could only dive to 10 meters depth, but we were far from complaining! Breathing from a tube was a strange sensation, especially as my guide released spurts of air from my life vest so I could sink downward. My ears popped at each new level but, eventually, I made it to the sandy bottom and began exploring the reef. Even though the fish were few, those that I saw were impressive! I peaked into a small tunnel and saw a jaw-snapping eel and followed a couple of rainbow fish that were whizzing around the coral. Megan and I managed to get one photo together and then, all too soon, we were back on the boat and heading to the shore. I can't wait to get my scuba license!

That afternoon, we had our first formal tour of the island. Our enthusiastic guide took us to the cuevas or caverns of the island. These caves were formed by lava millions of years ago and were used by the Rapa Nui people for rituals, growing food, hiding from enemies, and storing precious objects. The most impressive cueva, by far, was Ana Kakenga, the Cave of Two Windows. We crawled down through the narrow entrance into this dim, musty space. It was pitch-black in the interior of the cueva but, on the other side, light shone in from two large openings in the cliff face--an incredible, birds-eye view of the Pacific. After the tour, we relaxed for a bit at the hotel, grabbed dinner and homemade ice cream at Mikafe, and then made our way to Ahu Tahai for the sunset. As we calmly sipped Carmenere and watched the colors change from glowing tangerine to dark russet, we both wished there was a way to capture that moment forever.

Entering the Cueva

Ana Kakenga: Window 1

Ana Kakenga: Window 2

Sunset at Ahu Tahai

The next day, I woke early for the sunrise on the other side of the island. I ran along the main road in utter darkness and solitude, hearing only the scraping of my sneakers on the pavement. After fifteen minutes, I hit gravel and somehow managed to avoid falling as I continued running under the night sky. Finally, I caught sight of the other side of the Pacific and stopped to watched the dim light inching up from the horizon. It was definitely worth the trip, but not nearly as impressive as the sunset over the Ahu Tahai. I hurried back to shower and eat breakfast because Megan and I had a day-long moai tour and I didn't want to be late!

Morning Run: Sunrise!

The moai tour was undoubtedly the best of the week and helped us to realize why Easter Island has become so famous. We stopped at various moai sights along the southern part of the island, examining remnants of living and cooking sites. Our guide showed us endless toppled moai, which, face-down in the dirt, were rather unimpressive. Then, we arrived at Rano Raraku and were totally blown away. This was the volcano used for moai construction and boosts more than twenty moai scattered along its outer slope. Megan and I wandered amid the towering statues, taking hundreds of pictures and truly in awe of the size and individuality of each moai. There were several moai that were only half completed and were still embedded in the mountain; the Rapa Nui people carved the moai out of the mountain-side and then carried them--no easy task--to their ahu, or platform. The largest incomplete moai would have been 22 meters (71 feet) high and weighed 270 tons.

Remains of a Rapa Nui Shelter

Moai Head and Me (don't think I was supposed touch it...oops!)

Rano Raraku Moai

The majority of moai, once on their ahu faced inland, since the Rapa Nui believed that the spirits of their ancestors were enshrined in each moai and, therefore, were watching over their people. Sadly, by 1868 there were no statues left standing upright, brought down due to natural disasters or conflicts between the clans. Today, there are about fifty moai that have been re-erected, with the most impressive being the 15-moai platform of Tangaraka. It was truly breathtaking to view the line of maoi up close, each with a unique face and body shape, towering like guardians of the island. Megan and I met a fellow American tourist who had a unique way of taking pictures of this ahu: he had hooked his camera onto a kite string and was sailing the kite back and forth in front of the moai. It looked a little too technical for my snap-and-go system but, nevertheless, very impressive.

Tangaraka

The tour ended at Playa Anakena, one of two beaches on the island, and a welcome break from the day's walking. The beach seems almost out of place with the rest of Easter Island, with its white sand beach and endless palm trees. The water was warm enough for swimming and the sun was perfect for snoozing. After an hour, our tour guide was ready to take the group back, but we declined, knowing we could easily hitch-hike later (which we did). Back in Hanga Roa, we had a cheap yet satisfying dinner, though we could have easily done a perro muerto ("dead dog," the Chilean idiom for "dine and ditch") since our flamboyant waiter, wrapped in a purple butterfly sarong, skipped away down the street halfway into our meal. Luckily, Megan was able to track down another waiter so we decided it best to pay for our food and then be on our way. We finished the night with a liter of chocolate brownie ice cream, lamenting the end of our trip but grateful for the experience.

Playa Anakena

Moai on the Beach

Festival de Viña

Two days after returning to Santiago--after endless tramites (errands), laundry-washing, and picture-uploading--Megan and I embarked on another adventure: Viña del Mar! We were joined by some Chilean friends (Matías, Vale, and Jorge) for the renowned music event "Festival de Viña." This year's headliners included Los Jaivas and Sting, both of which were sure to exciting shows. After arriving, we grabbed a quick lunch and then soaked up rays on the beach. I attempted to read a Times magazine I had picked up in the states, but just engage myself in anything but the Festivals and Events Around the World section--clear evidence of my current priorities.

Viña del Mar Beach

Clock Near the Beach

That evening, Vale and I headed to the show, heading to the cheap seats which we affectionately called the pueblo. Sting was the leading act and drove the crowd wild. I could not believe the enthusiasm with which he was received and was equally surprised to learn that he had been a strong opposing voice during the dictatorship and had even written a few songs about Chile; the most tribute is called "They Dance Alone" and was written for the mothers who lost husbands and sons due to the military takeover. After Sting had finished, the crowd began chanting "Antorcha! Antorcha!" Vale explained to me that there are four prizes a singer at el Festival can earn (from lowest to highest): antorcha de plata, antorcha de oro, gaviota de plata, and gaviota de oro. Unlike normal prize awarding, the singer receives the lowest prize (the silver torch) first and then, if the crowd continues to roar, receives the next highest prize and so on and so forth until he or she reaches the gaviota de oro (gold seagull). Accordingly, the crowd cheered, yelled, clapped, screamed, jumped, and pounded feet for quite some time, until Sting was finally given the gaviota de oro. Crazy!

Sting

The next act was a comedian and was so completely and totally rejected by the crowd that I began to applaud his admittedly pathetic efforts. Chileans are not shy when it comes to expressing themselves! After twenty painful minutes, he fled the stage, and was not even given the chance at winning the antorcha. Next, we watched a competition between lesser known international groups, but it was hard to hear them over the crowd's chanting for Sting's return (apparently they did not understand the concept of a music festival). Finally, the last act of the night took the stage: Los Jaivas! This traditional Chilean group employs a range of South American instruments and sounds. I suppose they could be compared to Old Crow Medicine Show, but with much more widespread popularity. The group of people dancing near us went absolutely crazy when Los Jaivas took the stage and, as we joined them in dancing, we quickly became friends. After an incredible performance, and the accompanying shouts for the gaviota de oro, our new friends invited Vale and me to an asado (barbecue) at their apartment. Asado with strangers at 4am? Of course! As they say in Chile, "Que siga la fiesta" -- Let the party go on!

Vale and I at the Festival

Los Jaivas

Te Vas, Te Vas, Te Vas!

Sadly, all good things must come to an end and soon it was time to say goodbye to friends. Megan and Christine were both heading back to the states and their departure had to be celebrated accordingly. It was hard to see Megan go--her crazy despedida (going-away party) and parting gift to the CHACErs (7 bottles of pisco) made it clear that she would be missed. Two weeks later, Christine had her despedida and with much dancing and hugging, we also bid her farewell. The summer had come to a close and it was time to prepare for "real life" once again.

Preview for the next entry: Teaching at Villa Maria, Concerts (Shakira, U2), Weddings, and more...

I have read that, upon returning home from an extended period of life in another country, a certain sense of displacement creeps into one’s consciousness. It does not come all at once, as a sharp gust of wind to the face but, instead, as a tide ebbing closer and closer to dry sand. This sensation, I believe, stems from an intimate connection to two different worlds. Compounded with that strange duality, one begins to wonder to what extent place, culture, and society influence self and, if so, of what true self consists.

My restless traveler’s heart has taken up old roots in Chicago, finding there the long-yearned comforts of family and home. Of course, a few things have changed—the kitchen has been redone, putting me into wild confusion every time I seek out the trash bin or a spoon, and my fifteen-year-old dog Tessa has lost most of her hearing—but the essence of the place remains the same. And I, in this place, revert easily back into daily routine, so much so that I often pause and wonder if the last year and a half in South America was merely an elaborate dream.

But, thankfully, it wasn't a figment of my imagination and, as I skim through photos of the past few months, I am filled with eagerness to reenter my Chilean life. Regretfully, I have not been keeping up with my blogging and will thus attempt to summarize my last months in Chile with as much brevity as I am able--though, evident from prior blog entries, conciseness has never been my strong suit! The last time I wrote, my college roommate Julie had just visited. That brings me to about the middle of September--how time flies!--so it is there that I will begin my recap.

And Then There Were 12

The end of September brought warm breezes, fiestas patrias leftovers, and seven energetic new faces to Chile. Johnnie and I greeted them at the airport with colorful signs, big hugs, and excessive amounts of close photo shots. The seven new CHACErs--Aislinn, Kaitlyn, Garrett, Francisco, Eamon, Greg, and Phil--have been an energy boost for our normalized Chilean lives, pouring new excitement into our school and weekend days. During their first week, we happily assumed the roles of tour guide, party hostess, and Chilean slang translator. We held an once in our apartment for the new Chilean host families to meet their CHACEr and I found my thoughts drifting back a year to the first time I hugged and kissed my Chilean "parents." How fleeting yet formative a year in Chile can be!

After a few days, the new CHACErs had found their niche into the daily school routine. Garrett and Francisco were assigned to the first unit, a godsend for their high energy and creatively (not to mention the fact that they nearly doubled the current male teacher population). Aislinn, Kaitlyn, and Phil were placed in the second and third units and were quickly integrated into the busy life of the Saint George educator--Kaitlyn even started teaching a full schedule after just a few days there! Eamon and Greg began working in two different Catholic schools, a pilot program to expand CHACE to schools beyond Saint George. Though they seemed a little nervous and apprehensive at first, being separated from their American companions, they soon found the great benefit in being the only foreign teacher at their schools. I am confident that they both are excellent ambassadors of CHACE, considering the wonderful and talented people that they are.

September blended into October and, before long, we were beginning the last quarter of the school year. With my amazing partner teacher at my side, the creative juices had begun to flow and together we hosted a string of successful--though sometimes chaotic--activities, including Career Day, a field trip to the school cafeteria, and a recipe unit. My personal favorite was Career Day because it was the first time during the busy school year that I was able to meet many of my students parents. Both Gaby and I were amazed at how many parents could speak English, most quite fluently! I also enjoyed the range of parent jobs, from doctors and lawyers to toy-makers and professional skydivers. I'll have to stay in contact with a few of them in case this teaching gig doesn't pan out...it's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights!

In early October, I went to my first Chilean high school reunion with Diego and, even after living in Chile for an entire year, was still shocked by the quantity of meat that Chileans consume! The asado started around 11PM (typical) and lasted long after I had gone to sleep, at around 4AM. That only further reinforces my belief that no one parties like Chileans!

From that moment on, nearly all my weekends were spent with the new (and old) CHACErs, soaking up all we could, from trekking in Parque Andino Juncal to dancing on stage at Amanda's. A few late-night McDonald's binges reminded me that we were still very American, though, at discotecas like Alto Barcelona, we partied with the best of them! On Halloween, both CHACE groups came together with the simple yet brilliant costume theme of the 12 months of the year. I chose December and, obviously, dressed as a Christmas tree--and by dressed, I mean "decorated" and by "I," I mean "my dear and dedicated friends" since it is quite impossible for a Christmas tree to decorate herself. Have you ever seen it happen? I didn't think so.

The rest of the months were, unsurprisingly, awesome and we had a great time celebrating our CHACE togetherness. Other costumes at the party included Chilean miners, Zorro, and a Saint George student. Speaking of miners, I should mention that being in Chile during the rescue of the 33 miners was an incredible experience of Chilean solidarity and compassion. After 69 days of subterranean living, the men were brought up to the surface in a tube-shaped cage (el carrito) with the eyes of every Chilean glued to the TV in anticipation. The excitement began at midnight on Tuesday, October 12th and lasted until 10PM the following day. As each miner was brought to the surface, the crowds watching cheered wildly with tears running down their faces--we joined in wholeheartedly!

To read more about the miners, check out this article:
http://www.reuters.com/article/2010/10/13/us-chile-miners-idUSN0925972620101013

Year-End Celebrations and Prospects for the Upcoming Year!

In November, it was clear we were on the final stretch. I made an extra effort to spend time with the teachers who had become dear friends and began a crazed pace of interviewing for the upcoming year. At this point, I had decided that I was interested in spending another year in Chile but wanted to try teaching high school English. Saint George didn't seem to have any openings so I began looking elsewhere. The interview process was intense--for Villa Maria, the job I finally took, I was interviewed no fewer than four times, which included a written and oral psychological assessment...in Spanish! In the end, I was proven sane and offered the job. (Thank goodness I fooled them!)

Other highlights of November include Confirmation retreat, surfing in Pichilemu, a thrilling Girl Talk concert, the Saint George Spelling Bee, and the annual CHACE retreat. It was strangely comforting being back at the beach in Zapallar, looking out over the same rocks but knowing that I had been changed in ways I had not even yet begun to grasp. Father Scully flew in for the retreat and provided the perfect mix of calm and humorous reflection. I realized how lucky I had been to share this experience with such amazing, dedicated women and how sad I would be to leave it all behind. It was in this moment that I decided to accept the job at Villa Maria and extend my Chilean experience--there was still too much to see and do and I wasn't ready to say goodbye!

We returned to Santiago for the month of December--our final month as CHACErs--and began...the celebrations! Even though I was pretty certain I was staying, I still had plenty of despedidas to wish me a happy, well, goodbye! The weather was perfect for barbecues so I quickly filled my calendar with them, making sure to see all of the groups that had impacted my Chilean experience: Confirmation leaders, misiones students, first unit teachers, the Holy Cross priests, and friends! The first unit teachers threw me a special party at Claudia's house and, as a surprise, each teacher gave me a gift to remember her by. I was touched by their generosity and friendship and will truly miss each one of them next year.

On December 10th, we signed our finiquitos, marking our last day at Saint George's, and embarked on an entire day of tramites, tying up odds and ends. We received our final paycheck, closed out bank accounts and insurance plans, and began the process to receive our retirement funds--yes, we have retirement funds! Then, finally, we were done.

The next day, we left on vacation! Megan, Heather, and I met up with Jordan and Chris and, together, we ferried over to the island of Chiloe. I had been there previously with my parents, but it was fun to revisit the beautiful wooden churches and see the National Park for the first time. We also had plenty of spontaneity--one afternoon we paid a fisherman to take us out in his boat so we could get better pictures of the palafitos (houses on stilts) and another day we hitchhiked from one small town to the next! We had come such a long way in one short year!

After Chiloe, our group met up with Johnnie in Puerto Montt and we took a bus to the trail-head for the hike to Cochamo, undoubtedly the most beautiful place in Chile. We walked for seven hours, believing ourselves to be lost since the average time for the trek is only five hours, but it appears we were merely slow. Entering the area of the refugio was like coming upon a piece of paradise--the grounds were situated in a green valley, surrounded by granite mountains and an evergreen forest. The next day we hiked up, rather, scaled rock walls up to a beautiful view overlooking the whole valley and our entire crew sat for an hour in near-silence, breathless (and not just from the climb!). We ended the hike with a waterfall slide--literally! A series of gently curving rock had created the ideal place for a natural water slide and we bravely took on the icy water for the rush of the slide.

Then, it was back to Santiago, and back to goodbyes. We packed our bags, had one last three-hour long Chilean lunch (in which we were compared to Sex in the City by onlookers, not too far off from truth!), and headed home. Heather and I were on the same flight to Georgia so we spent our last minutes in Chile together, sipping down pisco sours with weepy eyes as we reflected upon the past year. There never seems to be enough time.

Home-Time Chilling

And now I am home again, enjoying the slower pace of life and the chance to catch up with my family and old friends. I have become far too comfortable with my daily routine--wake up late, exercise, read, surf the web, cook dinner with Mom, eat, watch TV with Dad, go to bed--and hope that I'll be able to get back into school mode come March! But, for now, I am using this time to eliminate the clutter from my bedroom and my mind, and set clear goals for the year to come, and the future beyond!

The only adventures that have broken up my lazy routine were the family trip to Deer Valley Utah--in which we were all beginners, slow plowers proud!--a few trips to Chicago, and a glorious visit from Danice, my best friend all through high school. Speaking of which, I recently visited my old high school and gave a presentation on Chile to the current Spanish students--all in Spanish! It was thrilling to be able to communicate so easily in my second language and wonderful to see some of my former teachers, all of whom remembered me! I hope that my memory will serve me as well for my former students! As I was packing up my things at the end of the presentation, the janitor came up and struck up a conversation in Spanish. He expressed his amazement with hearing me speak Spanish and we chatted for a few minutes about ESL and the benefits of learning a second language. I left my school, confident that I am moving in the right direction, even if I'm not sure about the end destination!

And that brings me, at long last, to the present. I VOW to blog more frequently in the coming year so as to avoid these lengthy summaries but I hope it provided at least a small glimpse of what I left in Chile and what is yet to come!

Besos,

Laura

FOTOS!
I am copying my housemate Megan's technique of putting all the pictures at the end of the blog entry. Enjoy!

1. The welcoming crew: Johnnie and I at the Santiago airport
2. My hero, the skydiving dad
3. High school reunion meat (first of many grill-filled meals)
4. Garrett, Aislinn, and I in Parque Andino Juncal
5. The girls in Parque Andino Juncal
6. Partying with the CHACE 10 girls
7. The 12 months of Halloween!
8. O Christmas Tree...
9. Lili's birthday party
10. Hector and I in front of the carrito (the cage used to rescue the miners)
11. The surfing crew in Pichilemu
12. The big waves in Pichilemu, where they host an international surf competition every year
13. Girl Talk concert (I think this photo speaks for itself)
14. The beautiful beach in Zapallar, site of the annual CHACE retreat
15. Some of our group in Zapallar
16. Despedida with my misiones group
17. Despedida with the Confirmation monitors
18. Despedida with the first unit teachers
19. A tough goodbye
20. Signing my finiquito (goodbye Saint George!)
21. Jordan, Chris, and Heather on the boat to Chiloe
22. The palafitos (houses on stilts)
23. Picture taken on our spontaneous boat ride with the local fisherman
24. What was waiting for me as I trekked back out of the park in Chiloe...no, this is not a joke!
25. Ready to trek Cochamo
26. What a view in Cochamo!
27. Heather scaling the moutainside
28. Heather and I at the peak of Arco Iris mountain in Cochamo
29. Last lunch in Chile, Sex in the City style!
30. Back in snowy Libertyville (so much for summer!)
31. Hamman family ski trip
32. Cross-country skiing with Danice and Meli

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I came across the following entry in a forgotten Word document today. It seems that, during one particularly eventful--yet typical--day of teaching, I felt the urge to record the experience so as not to forget. Enjoy a glimpse into the occasional craziness of being a second grade teacher.

A glimpse of teaching at Saint George:

9:40AM: I arrive at 2A just as the bell rang. The students are outside in a make-shift line; a few are sprawled on the ground drawing circles in the gravel while others peer through open windows of nearby classrooms. The door is locked.

9:42AM: The door is still locked. Students have become more restless. Ignacio is spinning himself into a frenzy. Three girls have begun planning some sort of clapping game and two boys are wrestling on the ground.

9:43AM: Antonia S. tugs on my dress and said, "It is beautiful." "Thank you, Antonia." She tugs again. "It is beeeeeeautiful." "Thanks, Antonia, now get back in line."

9:44AM: The teacher's aide is sprinting across the playground with the key. She hands it off to Margarita who darts around the building to unlock the main door.

9:45AM: Margarita opens the side door and the entire class pushes into the room like newly-sheared sheep entering a narrow gate. I manage to drag my flight-attendant cart of teaching materials though the door without tripping any students--a true accomplishment.

9:47AM: The students are beginning to sit in their "puestos" in the circle. Two girls are exchanging notes and Pedro is walking around aimlessly. I finish writing the "Menu" on the board and begin the count-up. "1...2...3..."

9:48AM: "29...30!" We finish counting and most of my students are seated. I greet them with "Good morning, second grade!" "Good morning, Miss Laura," they boisterously reply. "How are you today?" "Fine, thank you, and youuuu?" they echo, dragging out the "you" for extra flair. Antonia O. passes through the middle of the circle with six trays of math manipulatives precariously balanced in her shaky arms. She pauses, wavers, and...CRASH!...they tumble to the ground--trays, blocks, rods, and all.

9:52AM: The class has finished helping Antonia O. pick up the fallen manipulatives. I send six students carrying one tray each to the second grade teacher next-door. They really ought to invest in a set per class.

9:54AM: I finally "begin" my class.

Let it suffice to say, teaching at Saint George is never dull.

After "aguantando" (surviving) a frigid Chilean winter that proved to be the coldest three months of my life, I have a new appreciation for centralized heating--which we don't have--and large electric space heaters--which pumped meager whiffs of hot air onto my face as I shivered to sleep. During skype dates, I sensed confusion from family and friends as they gazed upon my indoor attire: winter jacket, hat, scarf, and the occasional pair of gloves. I truly believe we have the coldest apartment in Santiago. But, as I said, the winter has finally been put to rest and spring is shining its gloriously sunny face on our days in Chile. And just in time for "fiestas patrias" or Chilean Independence Day!

Well, technically Chile didn't gain independence from Spain until 1818, but that's no reason to stop the celebration--and celebrate we did! Chile brought on the festivities full force this year as they rejoiced in 200 years of freedom from tyranny...though the focus tended to be more on empanadas and cueca than on political freedom, but I wasn't complaining. To get the month started off right, Saint George hosted "Dia de la Chilenidad," or "Chilean Day," yet another reason to envy the hippie-minded students who do more celebrating than studying. The first unit (Kindergarten-4th grade) held a massive dance-a-thon with no less than 800 students between the ages of 5 and 10 performing typical Chilean dances. My particular favorite was the second grade rendition of Easter Island dances (sau-sau, upa-upa) with the boys wielding long wooden sticks that pounded the floor--and their tiny chests--as they grunted along with the music while the girls swayed back and forth in flowing grass skirts and coconut bras. Classy.

Second Graders Performing Traditional Easter Island Dances

The third unit (high school) was even more entertaining, as Saint George threw them a "fonda," the typical Chilean outdoor festival. Students nibbled on empanadas and choripanes (similar to a bratworst), danced the cueca, and, I kid you not, rode a mechanical bull. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Saint George is a very special place.

My Attempt at Dancing the Cueca with a 5th Grade Student

After school the next day, we headed to the beach for a teacher retreat with the Saint George faculty. The retreat center was in El Quisco, a small beach town with incredible rocky-ocean views. There, we relaxed, learned about the soon-to-be sainted Brother Andres, and caught up with colleagues. That night, we sipped pisco sours around a blazing bonfire, shared a few laughs, and even roasted a few marshmallows; that is, I roasted a few marshmallows and everyone marveled at the level of my gringo-ness. I just never could pass up a good roasted marshmallow!

Bonfire Fun

On Friday morning, I rushed home to see my former college roommate Julie McElroy who was visiting for the fiestas patrias. We wasted no time in reacquainting ourselves and then began a whirlwind tour of the city and its surroundings. Highlights included a visit to La Chascona--Pablo Neruda's Santiago home named after his mistress's untamed hair--a wine tour at Concha y Toro, a Notre Dame game watch, and trip up and down the snowy slopes of Valle Nevado.

La Chascona

Concha y Toro

ND game watch

Valle Nevado

During the week, I was busy with spiritual formation sessions at Saint George but rushed home everyday to spend time with Julie, which always involved eating large quantities of delicious, greasy foods (see photo of chorrillana). We even squeezed in a visit to Los Adobes de Argomeda, a restaurant which specializes in Chilean barbecues and live dance performances. The specialty of the evening was, unsurprisingly, the cueca, which was performed in every version possible--southside, seaside, and even clownside.

On Wednesday, Saint George held a bicentennial mass, complete with traditional dancers in costume and extremely talented musicians (did I mention I was in the choir?). Afterward, we shared a delightful abundance of typical Chilean fare: empanadas de pino, mote con huesillo, bread with pebre, steak, humitas, and more. Top it off with a plateful of fruit under a chocolate fountain and let it suffice to say that I was one happy gringa. Once school was out, the real celebration of fiestas patrias began. That evening, Julie and I joined some of my Chilean friends for a salsa lesson at Maestra Vida. We learned a few moves, stepped on a few toes, and had a great time.

Thursday morning started extra early as we packed our bags and drove south towards Cajon de Maipo. At this point, it seems necessary for a brief discourse about Chilean drivers. My boyfriend bought a "jeep" about a month ago but, as he still has yet to apply for his driver's license, I have been racking up the kilometers in the driver's seat. And, no, the quotation marks accentuating "jeep" are not haphazardly placed for emphasis or flair--I am, after all, a well-versed English major. On the contrary, "jeep" is so marked because it is the official Chilean word for any type of SUV, a helpful fact to know when explaining to friends why Diego's jeep wasn't quite so jeep-like.

But I digress. Back to Chilean drivers. In the states, I have always been hesitant to honk my car's horn, believing it better etiquette to wait out the stupidity of other drivers, no matter how long it takes them to notice the green light. However, in Chile, honking takes on a new meaning. It is a form of greeting, a "Hello, how are you today?" "Fine, thank you, and you?" It is an attempt at mind-reading--"You appear to be going for a run, but wouldn't you just love to hop in this taxi?" But, above all, it is a way to express your slightest irritation with lane changing, green light hesitation, or basically any movement from other vehicles. At first, the gringa in me took offense to the constant honking; now, however, I have embraced it wholeheartedly and even honked once myself! Ah, cultural experiences.

Back to Thursday. Julie and I, dressed ready for serious trekking, drove down to Cajon de Maipo where the snow-topped mountains and quick-flowing rivers had us oo-ing and ah-ing the whole way there. At one point, we were stopped by the carabineros (police) for a mandatory check and my chatterbox reputation finally proved its use--I maintained just enough conversation to keep the officer's attention away from my Visa, and the fact that I have lived in Chile for much longer than the three month limit for using a foreign license. My parents would be so proud.

Once we passed the police, the gently paved road came to an abrupt stop and we began bouncing along the narrow gravel roads up and down the mountainside. One hour later, we arrived at Monumento El Morado, a breathtaking mountain hike which, in ideal weather conditions, take the adventure-seeker to the foot of a glacier. Unfortunately, without boots or waterproof pants we were poorly prepared for deep snow, but we still managed to hike up to the panimavidas, a series of bubbling pools with a scarlet hue from the rich mineral deposits underground. The backdrop was too beautiful for words, so we had a photo shoot instead. A pair of snow angels was our final imprint on the mountainside as we slowly made our way back down the mountain and, after a quick zipline across the river, arrived back in Santiago.

On Friday, Julie, Diego, and I went to our first "fonda," which, as I mentioned previously, is a Chilean festival. Imagine state fair meets rodeo meets dance show and you have a more or less accurate picture of the glorious "fonda." Since we arrived early, we were able to partake in many of the drink samples, ranging from chicha, made from fermented grapes or apples, to navegado, a mix of red wine, oranges, and spices. At 11:00AM, the meat grillers were already hard at work and the rodeo was in full swing. The concept of the Chilean rodeo is similar to those popular in Texas, though the huasos (cowboys) of Chile wear flat-brim hats and their main event is a two-man (and two-horse) effort to corral the cow from one end of the stadium to the other and then push him up against a pad on the wall. The rodeo was somewhat intriguing but the gasps emitted by my animal-loving friend for each cow shoved against the wall made our rodeo visit a quick one.

The next event was the games tent, complete with Taca Taca (foosball) and loteria (bingo). The caller raced through mumbled Spanish numbers and I frantically plopped pieces of dried corn on what appeared to be the correct translation. A few minutes into the game, I looked over at "I don't speak Spanish" Julie's board and was surprised to see she had one space left. "Ochenta y tres" muttered the caller. "That's your number!" I told Julie and then uttered a series of sounds not translatable in either language until it became clear to the caller that my friend had won. With a prize bottle of pisco sour held snugly under her arm, Julie had officially lost her gringa right to deem herself monolingual.

After we had our fill of fonda fun, we hopped a taxi and a metro to Santiago's most cherished trashy bar, La Piojera, which is Chile's closest rendition of Notre Dame's Backer. But, instead of large plastic cups of long island ice tea, La Piojera offers the "terremoto" or earthquake and, just for fun, a smaller version known as the "replica" or aftershock. Julie, Diego, and I joined forces with some of our OLM volunteer friends and Diego's colleague, with a few random Chileans hanging around our periphery throwing black olives and shouting. Part of the wonder of La Piojera is the constant cheering which, from an onlooker, would seem to be a raging game-watch; however, a quick glance around the premises reveals neither a TV nor radio to pump up the crowd. The cheering, it seems, spawns from nothing less than pure nationalist pride...and perhaps a terremoto or two.

From there, we headed to La Moneda, the president's palace, to see Puro Energia, Puro Chile, a light and video show projected onto the front of the building. Amidst the crowd of children propped up on shoulders and towering men, it was difficult to make out the show, but the bits of flashing lights and projections that I caught were pretty impressive.

Saturday, Julie's last full day in Chile, we decided to head to the coast. Diego, Julie, and I piled into the "jeep" and drove to Valparaiso, famous for being one of the most important ports in South America and home to thousands of artists and musicians. We saw a bit of the military parade and then spent the day wandering up and down the cobblestone streets in the "cerros" (hills) of the city. It is often said that Valparaiso's vivid graffiti and colorful homes bring out the photographer in everyone, and we were no exception.

Late afternoon brought us to Vina, Valparaiso's ocean-side cousin. Vina is the more popular place to relax on the beach, evident from the towering apartments where santiaguinos stay on the weekends when they can get out of the city. We snapped a few shots on the beach and ate ice cream as we watched the sunset. Seeing the car's lights on--for the second time this week--gave us all a scare but, luckily, it still started. We stopped through Algorrobo on the way back for a quick "once" with Victor and Marianne and then, at last, crawled into bed.

Julie's last event in Chile was, appropriately, a barbecue. Johnnie and Felipe invited us over for some freshly grilled meat, an offer I never have been able to turn down, and we shared a few stories before driving to the airport and saying our sad farewells. But, the party doesn't stop there! Sunday night was the perfect chance to check out Yein Fonda (pronounced "Jane Fonda"), a clever name for the best live music fonda in Santiago. The entrance proudly bares a large banner with a young, blonde Jane Fonda, for which I'm sure she receives yearly copy-write funds...NOT! The event was packed and, though pricey, it was well-worth it for the chance to dance cueca for hours and rock out to typical Chilean tunes from Pentinellis, Buddy Richard, Los Tres, and Chico Trujillo. The next day, Diego and I hit up two more fondas with more live music, food, and dancing. As the last one closed up shop, I finally decided that I had reached my fonda fill...for 2010, at least.

The best thing about Chileans is that they never really are ready to let the party go and, for up to two weeks after fiestas patrias, I still heard stories of "el 18 chico," parties to use up the food left over from the Independence Day weekend, or basically an excuse to have more barbecues. And, with the city heating up more and more each week, I know that, as far as barbecues are concerned, this is only the beginning.