Interesting Chile Facts

Cool and Interesting facts about Chile

• Population : 16 million

• Percentage of population under poverty line: 19% (Life expectancy is on the up, and poverty has halved in the last 15 years)

• Unemployment rate: 8% (This statistic should be interesting to watch because of the increase of people going into higher education, but lack of jobs to support the educated students leaving the Universities. For example, they have a saying about lawyers, “you lift a stone and you find a lawyer.” There are many lawyer graduates but not enough jobs.)

• Population growth rate: .97%

• Adult literacy: 96.2%

• Pisco produced annually: 50 million liters ( a tangy, bitter-sweet cocktail, which is easily the national favorite drink)

• Produces 35% of the worlds copper. (45% of national exports)

• Chile contains approx. 10% of the worlds active volcanoes.

Chile's Social Revolution:

Conservatism, has been a defining characteristic of the Chilean culture, but there are many changes brewing from this newly democratic country. The church is loosing ground, and after a brutal dictatorship, Chileans are celebrating with cultural rebellion.

• Presidential race: A woman- an unmarried mother at that- Michelle Bachelet is the first woman elected to president not only in Chile, but in all South America; something that would have been unthinkable, only a decade ago.

• Divorce: Chile was until recently one of only three countries without a divorce law. It was introduced in 2004 despite strong opposition from the church. The lack of a divorce law in the past didn't keep marriages together so much as to increase the acceptance of couples living together out of wedlock with children.

• Gays and Lesbians are either ignored or frowned upon, but the situation is easing.

• Children out of wedlock: Until recently, men could leave their girlfriends with their babies and take no responsibility. However, since a law in 2005, father's are required to recognize their children out of wedlock.

• Chileans are family, and kid-oriented. Children typically live at home with their parents until they marry. If they leave their homes for Universities, there are often accommodation for the students to live in a home with a surrogate mother who cooks, cleans and takes care of them like their mother would.

A little History about the country

• 12,500 BC: Evidence of human habitation. Most famous is the Chinchurro culture who left behind the oldest known intentionally preserved mummies. In fact they began mummifying their dead 2000 years before the Egyptians.

• 1535-1600: Similar to North-America, Europeans, mostly Spanish settlers claimed the land as their own, bringing diseases, enslavement and death the indigenous peoples.

• 1888: Large scale nitrate and copper mining.

• 1900's: lots of political turmoil, including an elected president, a dictator taking over, the dictator being exiled to Argentina.

• 1960: The strongest earthquake ever recorded took place in Southern Chile, killing about 1000 people, destroying all buildings, and resulting tsunami wreaked havoc in Hawaii, 10,000 km away and on the coast of Japan.

• 1935-1970: Unstable political climate takes force. Democratic, but a fiercly polarized and militant society is forming. Communists, socialists and radicals form a party, but with very different goals.

• 1970: The world's first Marxist president is democratically elected; Salvador Allende. But an even more polarized country was rising.

• 1973 (Sept 11): Pinochet successfully overthrew the government in a brutal coup d'etat, killing the president, and hundreds of thousands leftists, or supporters were, tortured, killed and thrown into exile. Although the military government was only supposed to stay in power until the country stabilized, his rein lasted 17 years. The Caravan of Death traveled the entire length of the country killing many political opponents, while many others just disappeared.

• 1990: In order to appear as a democratically elected president, Pinochet held an election and lost. Although Pinochet continued to extend power through other means.

• 1998: Pinochet was arrested for human rights violations, but he never reached trial before his death last year, because of his failing mental health. To this day, Pinochet is still a very hot topic with Chileans, because some of the country continues to support his actions while others viciously despises the man.

• 2005-now: A woman president is in power, and the democracy is as health as ever, with frequent protests and strikes. Voting and democracy is taken very seriously here.

Geography

“Chileans delight in recounting the joke that after God made most of South America he took what was left over-bits of desert, mountain, valley, glacier, rainforest, coast and mountain and strung them together to create Chile, a slinky, thin country that extends some 4300 km, but averages less than 200 km wide: all ocean on one side and almost all Andes on the other. Sure enough, geography students could cover almost their entire syllabus in this single country: from dry desert top to sparking green rainforest to ice-capped south and a necklace of 50 active volcanoes, woven together by rivers, lakes and undulating farmland.”

• 10% of all the worlds active volcanoes are in Chile.

- The majority of this information has been taken from “Lonely Planet: Chile”

The Chile School System

The United States schools are divided into two seperate sectors, private, and public. The Chilean schools are divided into three, 1)public, 2)private, and 3)half public and half private. The half private, half public, and the full private schools are able to pick which students are allowed to attend. The other schools have no decision making power and accept all students. However, unlike in the US, there are no school districts directing which school a student must attend. The parents have a choice of which school their child may attend, allowing that the school has openings. For example, there are many rural towns within a thirty minute drive of Pichilemu, with their own schools located within the town, but because the parents can elect their choice school, I have many students in my schools from the rural towns. These students live in boarding houses during the week, to avoid the cost of transportation, and then live with their parents on the weekend.
I am working at two basico public schools, Divino Maestro and Digna Camilo. Basico means that the students range from pre-kinder to 8th grade. It is a combination of elementary and middle school. These schools, although similar, have differences as well. For instance Digna Camilo is a much older school and has been around since the begining of time, at least Pichilemu's time. Divino Maestro is brand spanking new and was built two years ago, primarily because there was a need for another school for students from the rural areas. Because there seems to be a lack of available teachers, some from Digna Camilo were reassigned to the new school. Evidently there was no option for the teachers to stay or go, they were told what they would do, and they obeyed. Something that all Chilean public schools have in common is a general lack of funding and materials. Books are almost always available, but projectors, radios, televisions any other teaching supplements are not provided or available.
When I say that I am working at these schools, I should clarify that I am a volunteer at these schools. Schools with english programs apply for volunteers through the Ministry of Education and a volunteer is assigned. There is supposed to be this rigorous process with many different requirements but the only real requirment seems to be having a school and frankly, none of us really understand why they choose the schools they do. As a volunteer with English Opens Doors, my only requirements seem to be that I speak English and I have a degree (not that they have seen it or asked for it.) I am then assigned to an English teacher in a designated school, that I am supposed to work with. We divide the classes up into 20 and 20 and after 45 minutes, we switch groups. I am to work with listening and speaking while the other teacher works with reading and writting. Our plans are supposed to correspond with each other, but at the moment, I am breaking the rules and focusing soley on getting the kids to the level of understanding and responding to basic questions such as "What is your name? and "How are you?" Interestingly, the kids hear the question "How are you?" everyday, and respond in unision "Fine, Thank you." but have no idea as to what they are saying. For all they know or care, they are saying, "I am a monkey and you are too!"

The school buildings are incredibly poorly built out of concrete, and without insulation or temperature control additives such as heaters or ACs. Because South America is in the Southern Hemisphere, we are in Fall, which in Region 6 is not an extremely cold season, and in fact very close to the temperatures in central Texas, but because no public buildings have heaters the buildings contain the cold as if it were their sole purpose for standing. The schools might as well be the Ice Palace in Narnia with the only difference being the addition of desks and a white board. Unfortunatly, although I teach in the Ice Palace, I lack the power to freeze any students who deserve the ice staff, which happens to be all of them. I feel like the buildings are taunting me sticking their cold, concrete tongues out in a way only a school can, chanting "just try to teach students, who all need Ridalin and corpral punishment, and as an added bonus, you'll have to keep moving around to avoid from freezing to the desk!" Ok, so my students haven't frozen to their desks yet, and I don't think we are actually located in Narnia, but I truly wear gloves, a hat and three layers of clothes to school in Fall because it is colder inside the classrooms than outside. The teachers, during their breaks, drink tea and coffee, not for the taste I don't think but for a substitute heating device. I am definitly looking forward to the rainy winter when not only will we have to battle cold, but we will have an extra adversery to add to this delightful picture; wetness.

I have a better understanding of the school system than I thought was possible, considering my ignorance of the language, but I am still confused about this next situation. I am under the impression that there is a teacher shortage in Chile considering that the majority of the teachers now, are all over 40 and counting. However, the schools claim that there are too many teachers per school to give each teacher their own classroom. Therefore, students have their own classroom and the teachers move around from ice room to ice room. This means that the 40 students in each classroom rule their class. The classroom is their domain, their jungle, and the teachers are just passing visitors or lion tamers for an hour and a half. If there are any decorations on the walls, it is not the teacher's doing. Materials are carried from class to class by the teacher throughout the day. Luckily, the students love to carry their teacher's things and are more than willing to enslave themselves for 5 minutes to help their teacher. Once in the classroom, it's a very different story.
Other differences include a lack of a discipline program. There is no such thing as ISS (In School Suspension) or Alternative school. There is also a law in Chile that all students have to be in the classroom at all times during the school day, so being sent home is not an option either. Basically if a student misbehaves regularly, there is nothing to be done except possibly call the parent, who may or may not care to discipline their child and the child is then left in class to continue their disruptions. With 40 students in one class and no threat of consequences, discipline is a near impossible feat. Along with no discipline program, there is no school nurse or school counselor or anyone else for that matter. There are teachers, one to two secretaries, an equivalent to a Principle and a Vice Principle and that about wraps it up. The other day, I had a student in my class who started to cry becuase she felt sick, and there was nothing for me to do with her, except let her lie down on the chairs. There was no school nurse to send her to and I was at a loss. When I asked my English teacher about it, she said "We are teachers, nurses, psychologists, mothers, and whatever else the kids need us to be."
The different schools: Divino Maestro (DM) and Digna Camilo (DC). Divino Maestro is about a ten minute walk from my house. This school is larger than DC because there is more than one of each grades. So instead of one single 7th grade class there are two seperate classes where at DC there is only one class of each grade level. Divino Maestro also has an English teacher who speaks English pretty well. Her name is Brenda. I somtimes forget that she is not a native speaker. I am so thankful to have someone to speak English with that I start to talk at my normal rapid pace, before she has to slow me down. Brenda is a lovely, single woman who lives on her own in one of the nicests houses in Pichilemu, with black curly hair, and a strong love for her family in Talca. She worked over 60 hours at three different schools for several years in a row to save up and build her own house. She teaches her English classes in English which is a rarity here in Chile. Carmen, a very sweet older woman with a lazy eye is my principle English teacher at DC, but I also have the priveledge of working with two other teachers at DC giving me a grand total of 4 teachers to coordinate lesson plans with. There is a serious lack of English teachers in Pichi, so any teacher who is the most qualified, meaning they have had at least one course, is the next in line for teaching this foreign language that no one knows. Carmen has taken English courses, but the only English words I have ever heard uttered from her mouth are Hello and Good-bye. Loreta and Louis are the other two teachers I work with. Loreto is currently enrolled in English lessons, and Luis actually speaks some and understands some, but I honestly feel more comfortable speaking in Spanish with all of them. Carmen is the teacher who has been informed as to why I am at their school, and what my true purpose is here, but still to this day, the other teachers at DC have not been properly informed as to how best to utilize me. I have tried explaining how the program works, and what I am supposed to do, but because they haven't been told what the English Opens Doors Program is really about, they don't really know what to do with me even after I have attempted explainations in both languages. (We were supposed to have a meeting yesterday, but Carmen fell ill, maybe next week).

Teaching Adventures

On a whole, I have more problems at DC primarily because of discipline problems. On my first day working with Loreto in the 7th grade class, I was horrified. I was horrified at the lack of respect the students gave her, and I was also horrified at how she could just ignore such blatant, and atrocious behavior. She walked into the class, greeted the class with the stamped and approved salutation of the Chilean English class:
Teacher: Good morning
students: (standing at their desks) Good morning Ms. So and So
Teacher: How are you?
students: Fine, sank you
Teacher: Sit down please.
students: Sank you ms.
Normally this is the most tame part of every class, but this particular class, takes the disrespect to an all new level of outrageousness. Maybe three students of the 40 stood up and responded to Loreto, the rest continued walking around and discussing gossip with the other students. She then had me try and teach the lesson since I was the token English speaker. The lesson first began with a worksheet with a word bank and a scene from a typical city block. The sheet had blanks next to objects such as a bus, a road, a newspaper stand etc. Dictionaries were handed out and the work was to begin. A couple students completed the worksheet and the rest just copied after thirty minutes of talking and ignoring the worksheet staring up at them. I found this particular worksheet humorous because it used all British terms such as Zebra crossing for crosswalk and others that I can't think of at the moment. After this worksheet was completed, the teacher had me read a passage from the brand new English books. Before I continue, I must say that I think the new English Books designed for the Ministry are great, colorful, and entertaining, but are way too high of a level for my seventh graders in Pichilemu, who can't answer the question "how are you?" The passage, "A tour of Babylon, a city of the past" included words such as "divided, unequal parts, Euphrates River, consisted, King Nebuchadnezzar, Hanging Gardens, impressive ect." Basically, in this passage, the kids could only understand the word "the." She wanted me to read this two paragraphed passage to them out loud and not only expected them to listen but to understand anything that came out of my mouth. I did as she asked but I tried to make it interactive and have the kids figure out the vocabulary as we went. They stayed interested for half of the passage probably because I made a fool of myself and they found me amusing for some time but after I was no longer interesting, they returned to their normal activities of yelling, screaming, climbing on desks and generally being animals in a jungle. I then tried to teach the clapping method of attention grabbing. I clap once, they clap once, I clap twice, they clap twice, I clap three times, they clap three times and so on until everyone in the class is paying attention and silent except for their hands. However as soon as they figured out how this clapping thing worked, they erupted into cheers, and hollered even louder than before the clapping. My exhausted voice failed me and I sat down as the teacher failed to get them to pay attention.
The second time with this class I nearly walked out. They had behaved better than normal for my first visit because a novel person was in the room, but as soon as I became old news, life resumed back to chaos. It was the same story as before except for worse and with less attention. I should note that this is not the only class I have wanted to walk out on. Last week while teaching the 6th graders basic questions, I decided to remove ten students, about half of my class, from the classroom because they refused to pay attention and didn't listen to a word I said. They don't seem to understand that the more time they yell, wrestle, play their recorder, scream my name and tattle tale on each other, the less time they will have to play the game... if I have a game. This particular day, I was planning on playing musical chairs with an added twist of English, but this class didn't have time to play because I had spent so much time just trying to get them quite.
At Divino Maestro, I have more problem students rather than problem classes, not to say that I don't have problem students at DC, but the situation is different. In one of the 7th grade classes, I have a 17 year old who has been held back at least three times and loves to make teachers wish they had never entered into the teaching profession. He is at least a head taller than me, and last week proved this to me by sticking his chest in my face as an intimidation method. He also grabbed another kid by the shirt and yanked him around. His parents were called, who knows if it will help. Other students like to hang and swing on the railing in the library. And I have a couple of girls in separate classes who refuse to speak or participate.
I don't want it to seem like everything about Chile's schools are bad because they aren't, the bad is just more apparent at the moment than the positive attributes. There are kids in the groups who are surprisingly knowledgeable and intelligent, and there are also kids who genuinely want to learn English. I have these kids in every one of my classes and I wish I could just teach the ones with genuine interest, but as that is the wish of all teachers around the world, I will just have to continue teaching them all. Some positive aspects include getting notes, drawings and gifts from my students almost daily. My first day of observing at DC, a little girl drew a lovely portrait of me in my kacky skirt and red shirt with stars circling my body. At DM I received a note from a little girl entitled "Tia Banesa" This note was not only cute for it's misspelling of my name, but also the content. The girl wrote "I hope you are happy and I hope that I have class with you because you are very pretty and nice and your husband too." She then drew a picture of Kyle and me at the bottom of the note, both holding briefcases and wearing pink shirts. At both schools I am a celebrity and get swarmed by little girls who want to hold my hand and ask the gringo questions as I walk to the teachers lounge . I appreciate the attention because, lets be honest, we all know I like attention, but sometimes it feels a little weird to have little girl ornaments every time I walk the halls in my school. But after a frustrating class, it is nice to have that little girl hug.

A side note: Because the kids had a hard time understanding my name, they started calling me Tia Vienesa, which is a hot dog brand. And it seems that no Spanish speaker can pronounce Kyle's name correctly so the students gave up all together and call him Tio Gringo. The other volunteer here in Pichi also has a very difficult name in Spanish; Bethany. The "th" sound comes out like an "s" so what you hear is "Tia Bessa me" which translates to Tia Kiss me.

Orientation into the schools.

My first experiences with these schools were very conflicting and confusing. In Pichilemu we don't have a coordinator and there is no one assigned from the Ministry of Education to help us. Our first week of orientation with the town and our schools, we were left to flop around in the cold, salty, treacherous sea of schedules and details, without any lessons as to how to swim or any possiblity of a rescue anytime soon. The second day in Pichilemu, we were handed off to different men from the provincial, who were taciturn, un-smiling and un-informative. The driver was plump with glasses and a lazy eye, while the other wore a black leather jacket and had squinty eyes. They took Kyle, Bethany and me out to Kyle's rural schools one by one so that he could meet his teachers and figure out some type of schedule. (This part will be an entirely different story so we won't go any further with the Kyle section, except to say, that the "schedule" didn't work out)


After a long day of riding in a small truck on bumpy roads behind two strange men, that never introduced themselves and obviously thought this was an unwanted chore, we were ready to jump off this welcome wagon head first. Still to this day, we remain unsure as to what their names are. Nothing of my schedule was settled and so we were off on another exciting journey with the two jolly men. Our shady guides took us first to Divino Maestro, where the principle speaks at the speed of light, to discuss my "horario." I was glad to go there first because my initial impression was that this school was friendlier. The motor mouth principle, on our first day, had been extremely excited to greet us and inform us that we were very welcome and that I would be very happy with them. He said they considered my presence a privilege. Bethany, our friend and the other volunteer in Pichilemu, was the mediator since she was the only one of our crew who spoke both languages. I had 25 hours of actual teaching time to divi up between the two schools, and 16 hours were assigned to Divino in that meeting. I sat in the cramped office, similing, nodding and listening as Bethany did all of the talking. The meeting with Divino was a piece of cake however, in comparison with Digna C. At our next stop DC, the principal was an unhappy camper when she discovered that 16 of my 25 hours had already been assigned to Divino M. Because I hadn't become fluent within 48 hours of being in Pichilemu, I sat looking from frowning face to frowning face, trying to figure out what was being said about me. They were allotted a measly nine hours, and they wanted more. They wanted me to either work more hours than my designated 25, or to work more extra-circular hours with them than Divino M. They also wanted Kyle to dedicate his extra time to their school. I understood why they were unhappy, but because we were dropped to the sharks without a life jacket, and left to figure out all of the nitty gritty details on our own in a foreign language without any help or protocol or official meeting between the schools, there was nothing to do except doggy paddle as best we could and hope survival was one of the options. The schedule at Digna Camilo was not decided that day, but later in the week. The schedule was ironic, because Digna C had decided that although Kyle was not assigned to them, he was to work 9 hours at their school anyways. Because Kyle's schedule was so confusing and he had no way of actually getting to his rural schools at the time, he didn't argue and dutifully followed the schedule.
After this rather painful meeting which felt like having all of my teeth removed without anesthetic, the easy part was to begin; the teaching! Har har har! Luckily, there was a protocol as to when to start teaching and it wasn't until after two weeks of observation of the real English teacher. DC redeemed itself with the welcome ceremony they threw for Kyle and I. A construction paper sign was hung on the wall outside stating, "Welcome At Our School." A speech by the principle, and the English teacher was made about how much we were appreciated. The national dance, which I have now seen at least 6 times at different functions, was performed. A Spanish and English color song with balloons was sung, the national anthem as well and little Chilean flags were presented to us gringos. Also a birthday song for "yours truly" (since the next day was my birthday), and a little question and answer session for me by two little girls. It was a lovely welcome ceremony and I loved every minute of it. They wanted to share with us how appreciative they were to have us volunteering at our school, and they succeeded. After the welcome ceremony with the whole school, the teachers held a separate wine and empanada celebration afterwards, with more of the "cueca" dance and more singing of Chile songs. A nice, but strange woman sitting next to us, who was missing several teeth continually chatted with Kyle and me as if we understood every word. She didn't seem to mind that our reactions only consisted of smiling, laughing and nodding, she continued to tell her life story to the new guests of DC. If this was my introduction to the schools, I had no idea what to expect for the "real life" part.

First Day in Pichilemu

After a three hour bus ride from Santiago to Pichilemu we had arrived to our final destination. Whizzing past trees, twisting around endless curves, passing many dilapidated casas, the magnificent waters of the Pacific Ocean revealed themselves, beckoning us to what would be our home for eight months. We could see it for what felt like a fleeting moment, and then it was gone, and we and our luggage rested anxiously on a sidewalk, waiting. We, (Bethany, another volunteer, Daniela, our Chilean guide and friend, Kyle and I) waited on the curbside,

for what, I wasn't sure. After two weeks of a disorganized orientation, I was used to not knowing what was going to happen next, and so I waited without questions. However, we didn't have to wait long, before two cars with two men came along quickly and brought us to a building we now lovingly call "The Prov." We were ushered into a room with couches, offered tea with cookies, the staple of the Chilean diet, and poked and prodded with many questions. Bethany, who is just about fluent in Spanish, did all of the talking. I didn't mind, because I understood maybe three words of the entire conversation and just stared at the rapidly moving mouths hoping something sensible would come out. After a while, I excused myself so that I could use the restroom, but when I came back, the room had filled with three more guests. Three women, one a nun, stared at me as I walked back into the crazy Spanish speaking room. The director had forgotten my name which I excused since I hadn't caught any of their names. As I approached he said in Spanish, "This is .... she." I introduced myself to these strangers, going around the room and dutifully kissing every one's cheek then quickly found refuge in the sofa. Because there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit comfortably, Kyle and I had to squeeze into the couch with one of the new women. After officially squeezing into our sardine can, this woman sitting next to me, whom I didn't know, was introduced again as my host mom. I was so embarrassed I tried to apologize and laugh at the confusing situation, but it was nearly impossible to turn and look at her as I was lodged meticulously in between her and Kyle. The other two ladies were also introduced as Bethany's host mom, and the nun was the director of her school. After we were pryed loose, our host mom was told to come back for us later in the afternoon.
After the awkward meeting, we climbed into a car and were taken for a tour around Pichilelemu. Our first stop, the ocean, Punto de Lobos or Point of the Wolves. We were told that this amazing location was named for the many wolves who used to come for mating, but since Chileans had taken up residence, they no longer came. We were a bit confused as to why wolves would come to this particular location by the ocean for mating, until our misunderstanding was corrected weeks later. Lobos did not refer to land animals, but creatures of the sea, Lobos del Mar, seals.
The waters at this location are particularly violent and treacherous. They dance in unison to create graceful and awe-inspiring waves. However beautiful, this dance is also frightening. The dancers are choreographed perfectly with centuries of practice, and the force behind these waters holds an ancient and incredible power. I am afraid of this spot and I am filled with contradicting emotions. Fear, and humility bounce around my body, but peace and happiness course through my veins. It is our first day in our new city and I can't keep my feet on the ground or figure out what emotion to grab hold of to keep as mine.
We drove around the rest of the city with our guide pointing out particulars in Pichilemu. The old Casino which is now an empty building was built by the founder of Pichilemu, in hopes of making the town a huge tourist attraction; seafood restaurants that are designed for tourists to pay too much dinero; and the Parque Ross, a park with a wonderful view of the ocean. After the tour, we venture past an Internet cafe, up some stairs into a room that feels like somebody's house, and into an empty dining room. We are served pisco sours, the Chilean lemon lime specialty drink, and local wine. Our meal is delicious, and the conversation is sometimes slow enough for me to follow and even chime in on occasion. I must say, however, the wine is somewhat to thank as it helped to loosen my tongue. After our delicious lunch, we were taken to our designated schools. Who ever had the idea to stuff and wine the American volunteers before their official and formal introduction to their places of employment had a sick sense of humor. In any case, the introductions went well and the schools were all very welcoming and excited for the new comers to teach their children English. After visiting my schools, and Bethany's school, (the rural schools were saved for the following day) our tour was finally coming to an end. But our day was far from over. Although I felt that it had already been the longest day of my life and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and curl into a ball, we had the second round of this on going test waiting for us at The Prov, our host mom. It was to be the first time, we were left alone with a Spanish speaker who didn't also know English.
Camila, a short, beautiful woman, with blond hair, brown, cheerful eyes, and an easy laugh was waiting for us when we arrived back to the Prov. She gave us a tour of the house and introduced us to her pregnant dog, Canela. She was patient with us and praised us for our Spanish. She told us that before, they hosted a couple from Germany who spoke absolutely no Spanish whatsoever, and our little Spanish was a great improvement on no Spanish. I was greatly relieved to find this bit of information out, because it meant that I had a low expectation to meet and exceed rather than a high expectation to fall short of. We discussed anything we could think of to talk about. We discussed the spiders on the porch, who refused to admit defeat even after their homes were destroyed once a week, the orange sun kissing the horizon and the bright moon taking it's place, the horses eating and neighing in the pasture, and the washing machine that stopped functioning but couldn't be fixed in Pichilemu. We also discussed, Jorge, her husband, who hadn't arrived home yet. After an hour or more of talking, we excused ourselves to the bedroom, to start unpacking our belongings. After a short while, Jorge arrived home. He informed us that he knew five English words, one of which was lawyer because that was his profession. Jorge is the equivalent to a district attorney and has a reputation of leading with an iron fist. As we talked over our fantastic four course meal, fit for a king, or at least someone in the king's court, they described to us a recent case of a corrupt public official taking bribes and pocketing money whom Jorge had prosecuted and successfully placed in jail. Among our topics were differences in American and Chilean culture, different animals, foods, and how and why we chose Chile. Somehow, we succeeded to have a two and a half hour conversation with our broken Spanish. When dinner was over, and we had given them their picture book of Texas, and their stuffed armadillo, we retreated to our bedroom to discuss the miracle that had just transpired. I don't know how it happened but amazingly we conversed and for the most part understood what was being discussed. It was an amazing feeling. We loved our family from the get go and they continue to be amazing. We are truly blessed to have such a wonderful family to live with.

I would just like to apologize for my tardiness in writing blogs. I will try and post more frequently! For now however, another volunteer has written a column for a newspaper in Ohio and Colorado about our experience here in Chile. His writing style is very different than mine, but I found it described our first two weeks in Santiago well. I want to share it with you now. But soon, I will post my own writing instead of plagiarizing others!

p.s. I just want to say, that yesterday, as Kyle and I were walking home, we saw a blue truck drive by. There was nothing particulary interesting about the truck itself, except that in the back trailer was a white llama enjoying the ride. It was the funniest thing at the time and totally unexpected! Just goes to show that you never know what to expect in Chile.
By Rob:
Housed smack in the middle of Santiago, Chile, the Chilean Ministry of Education’s new crop of sixty volunteers sticks out like dachshunds in a herd of alpaca.

When we break for the festive nightlife of the city after a tedious day of orientation, our group evokes images of the pack mentality that causes misunderstanding between cultures around the globe.

Fortunately for us, the curious stares from locals and sputtering conversations impeded by language barriers turn more favorable when our veritable mission is exposed. Upon recognizing our goal to “open doors” through the English language, the citizens of Santiago answer our questions and help us on our way.

A welcome ceremony at the modern, glass-encased United Nations building on the day of our arrival yields enough goose bump moments to mask the fatigue of our redeye flights. Nightly Spanish lessons help us to better understand the “Chilenismos” that are smattered frequently throughout the Spanish here and make the language tough to decipher. And soothing glasses of wine shared in the midst of tiki torches, palm trees and screaming red umbrellas on the patio of our four-story international hostel ease the onset of total immersion.

For every instance in which we wear our wine at two in the morning or blow pesos due to deficient Spanish and terrible currency conversion skills, we aspire to convey gems of the English language to our future students several times over. We learn from our mistakes as well as from the most unlikely of resources, such as the street dogs of Santiago.

In comparison to American dogs, the street dogs are dirty and unkempt. They are a bit intrusive into public privacy and scavenge for food. Nonetheless, American dogs are not nearly as savvy. Our dogs are spoiled while the street dogs of Santiago prosper and gain intellect from the grittiness of their existence. Makes me wonder why those from the States are given the world yet many still howl at the moon?

My mother will be proud to hear that some of what I learn here is not from vagabond animals but through the escapades of others. On one warm and starry night I head “home” at a reasonable hour while my companions prolong their evening of debauchery in the bars of Santiago. The night tears right along before it comes to a screeching halt.

The off-duty Chilean police officer from whom my four compatriots accept a ride from bar to hostel blasts techno music and promptly backs his jeep square into a sturdy tree. He proceeds to slam the car straight forward, over the curb and into a street sign. My friends clamor for an escape as the officer spins his wheels fruitlessly in the middle of a flower bed.

Lingering visualizations of these exploits and my delight in making the right decision still make my day, as do thoughts of our daytime excursions into Chile’s vivacious schools.

Our “observations” of local students and teachers are reciprocated by the children ten-fold. We enter any given school and are poked and prodded like cattle at a 4-H fair. The younger students, clad neatly in blue or grey suits and ties for the boys, and skirts, sweaters and stockings of like colors for the girls, nearly fall flat on their backs when we stroll through the expansive interiors of their open air, two-story schools. Our egos blast into orbit.

We pose for cell-phone cameras and sign autographs. Our mere essence of being is as alien to the Chilean kids as a surfboard to an Ohioan.

The lucky amongst us are invited to join indigenous dances with children garnished only in grass skirts, body paint and coconut bras in front of hundreds of giggling students, teachers and friends. Although awkward and red-faced, we grit our teeth and bear the embarrassment of the moment because it offers a rare chance to release our perpetual inner-child.

After all the hoopla of Santiago, the next step in our journey is to part ways from the group and the big city to live out our dreams in a whole new reality in the schools of Chile.

If all involved have taken anything from our first two weeks in Chile it may be that “gringomania” has struck in a huge way and there is no sign of a slump any time soon.

Thanks Rob for the great story!

Why Chile

Why Chile?
Our first evening in Chile, Saturday evening we sat around outside under the awning introducing ourselves, drinking pisco sours, the native drink to Chile, and attempted to discover the path that led everyone here to the same place at the same time. Everyone had different stories, but it seems every one's story was exactly the same, looking for something different, wanting to learn about a different culture, different people, and a new way of doing things, in a foreign part of the world. We were all looking for something, but something we couldn't find where we came from, so we went looking for it. Many people ask me, "why? Why Chile? " And normally I say because we wanted to learn Spanish, the program was on sale, and Chile is beautiful, but the true answer is more complicated than that. I will only answer this question for myself, although I am sure Kyle's is very similar to mine, we aren't truly the same person, so I will allow him to answer this question for himself. I love Texas, I love my friends, and my home and my family, but I crave something more, something that I can't explain. When I first took the job at High Country Marketing, I was excited because I felt like I was going to build a strong future for Kyle and I, but along side that excitement was a voice screaming at the top of it's lungs that it was too long term of a job and with it, I would never be able to just get up and leave the country if I wanted. I guess I should mention that since high school, I have had a strong desire to join the peace corps. The peace corps offers many things that I desired, an ability to speak another language, to live in another country for two years, and a life changing experience of service to others. After taking my job, I was afraid that I would never see that dream realized, a dream that I had carried close to my heart for a long time. I felt suffocated by reality and by ordinary and a dull existence. My spirit is one of giving and adventure, and neither were being fulfilled in Austin. I felt so alone, afraid and timid, something I am not accustomed to. My spirit was desperate for air, but there wasn't even promise of it in my future, and I could feel it shriveling inside. With High Country Marketing, I had one client and two more that had said yes, but hadn't signed the dotted line. When the dotted line remained empty, my phone calls avoided, and my one client unhappy with the progress, my first reaction was to feel unhappy and confused, but within a couple of days, I realized that this door that slammed in my face could actually be my out, my window, my silver lining. I called Kyle as soon as the storm clouds revealed their first gleams of sparkles. Although my enthusiasm overpowered kyle's tenfold, I heard excitement in his voice. The next couple of weeks I spent glued to the computer, researching all of the many possibilities. I applied for at least ten positions, including, Japan, South Korea, Argentina, and Chile. We chose Chile, not for the money, obviously, but because we felt that it was the best fit. So here we are, on this roller coaster we have chosen, not knowing where the next turn will take us, but excited just to be on the ride!

Vina y Valpo

Weekend Trip to Vina del Mar and Valparaso. That weekend just about all 60 of us escaped to the beach town Vina del Mar. Kyle and I went with a group of 20 people. We had planned on a group of 6, but everyone left around the same time, so we stayed together. It had it's advantages, we got a discounted rate for our bus tickets and a discounted rate for filling up an entire hostel. We stopped at a pizza place to eat and then headed to the beach. Chile has a stray dog problem, most of them aren't dangerous, but
most are badly in need of bathes and a trip to the vet.
Evidently dogs like the beach too, and if you take their spot, they just plop down on top of your stuff. One particular dog also decided that people sleeping on the beach actually want to be woken up with a big wet tongue, and gracefully did his duty waking two of the guys in our group up from their restful slumber. He stayed around long enough to be named Jasper. We lay around, walked along the beach, took pictures of the Brazilian martial arts being practiced, shopped along the sidewalk and then headed back. Our hostel mom, Christina, took us to an Italian food restaurant run by her friend. The food was ok and a little overpriced. I really wanted to go dancing so we headed over to some clubs, however, dancing in Chile doesn't start until 1:30 or 2 am, and Kyle has a hard time staying up much later than 1 so we headed back after enduring karaoke for over an hour. Evidently we didn't miss much because they didn't play great music. The next day, the groups broke up into smaller groups, and we went different directions. Kyle and I wanted to visit Valparaso which is this little town 15 minutes (or 5 minutes, depending if you have a crazy bus driver on speed) away with a beautiful view of the area. It is a little art community and many of the walls of the buildings were painted with colorful murals. It was a fun filled weekend.
The following week was as packed full as the week before. Our days started at 8 and ended at 7 or later. About 10 people got sick, including Kyle. Everyone had different symptoms and the paramedics didn't really say what everyone had, just told most people not to drink the water or eat fresh fruit for a week and gave them a shot in the butt which made everyone feel much better. Kyle didn't get the shot, they said he didn't need it. It is unclear why they gave some people the shot and not others, but we won't worry about it. Kyle's birthday, we were to visit another school, and this time we were placed in the same group, but Kyle was sick and stayed home, so the teacher had the kids sing happy birthday to Kyle so I could record it on the camera and bring it back to him. He was better by the evening, well enough to go out for a drink, but he went home early, since he was still recovering.

The next weekend was a sad one, we had to say goodbye to all of our new friends, and we weren't sure when we would ever see any of them again. They were spreading us out throughout all of the regions, starting from the North in the desert, one of the driest places in all the world (one part of this desert hasn't had recorded rain in 400 years) to the place called the 'end of the earth', since it is so close to Antarctica. Chile is so diverse and we will all have so many different experiences in our different areas of Chile. The desert people left first, and it was hard to say goodbye without crying. The end of the earth crowd left next and so on until the 5th and 6th regions were the only ones left alone.
It was a packed full two weeks with lots of disorganization, complaining and frustrating moments, but it also was filled with lots of laughter and inspiration. With a group of kindred spirits, it is difficult not to become fast friends during two weeks, and I hope that we are able to keep in touch. I don't feel as prepared as I would like, but I only hope that I can make a difference in the schools I have been placed. Pichilemu, here I come!

Orientation

Two week orientation

Santiago, what an experience. The capitol of the richest economy in South America, makes me afraid to see the maintenance on rest of the continent. Santiago has divisions between rich and poor areas; from the west and the south, the poorest, to the east, the richest, it all seems to have in common a general lack of maintenance, included in this package is disorganization, rundown buildings not made to last and graffiti decorating the walls and crevices of the city. However, though we spent two weeks in this city, most of what we saw were the inside of the hostel, and classrooms where we were given invaluable information, in Spanish!
Let us start from the beginning of our arrival. I believe I have already covered the most horrid part of the trip, where we weren't picked up from the airport, and streaming through my mind was the fear that this whole event might actually be a scam. My patience was running very low, not realizing that in the next couple of weeks, I would need all of the strands of patience I could string together to get me through this two week orientation. In the taxi ride to the hostel, instead of the relief I desired, I felt magma rumbling inside my body, preparing for an eruption that would compete with Mt.St. Helen. However, I realized that it might not be the best for a first impression, to go explode into molten lava, destroying all of Santiago with flames from the center of the earth streaming out of my nose and mouth and so, I quited the fire, and persuaded it to strike another time. Arriving to the hostel and finding it, the correct destination, relieved some of my anxiety. The first shower after traveling for close to 22 hours, was the most amazing shower I have ever taken in my life. We had flown from the worst winter storm of the season in New York, to the last stance of summer in Chile. We had sweat from having too many jackets on while carrying all of our belongings on a New York subway, as well as sweat from Chile's sun and the fear of never making it out of the airport. The hostel didn't have AC, and the cold water of the shower, made me want to melt into a puddle; on second thought though, I didn't want to travel down the pipes of the city only to find myself in the sewer system; so I left the shower a new woman, refreshed, clean and ready to take on the crazy adventure I chose to embark on.
The food at the hostel, I must say, was a bad orientation into Chilean food. We were served so much bland meat and rice, without the famous vegetables that this country in known for. Many people signed up for the vegetarian plates, which also had a bad wrap, because it was the same salad nearly every night, of ice burg lettuce, a couple of slices of tomatoes, beets, sometimes an egg and occasional cucumber. We arrived Saturday afternoon and had the rest of the weekend to relax and settle into the swing of Santiago. We were to find out later that there were 60 of us altogether on the 8 month program, and three couples. We were the only married couple, but another couple, a much older couple, was about to embark on both of their third marriages while in Chile. The second couple, the girl from Denmark, and the boy from Pennsylvania, Aaron and Christine, became immediate friends. Tall, super-model handsome, funny, and kind. They make an extraordinary couple. They met at Penn State while Christine was an exchange student from Denmark, and the rest is history. They had been living in Santiago for several months already, teaching businessmen/women to speak English, but felt isolated because they had come without a program, lived alone in an apartment, in a country that they couldn't speak the language well in so they had decided to change course and join English Opens Doors.
Sunday, Kyle and I split up, displaying our independence, trying to prove that we weren't that couple. I went to a tourist hot spot called San Christabol, which was a mountain with a really big statue of Mary looking down on the city of Santiago. It was a really fun trip, which included a ride up a funicular, gradually revealing the whole of the city step by step as we climbed up the mountain. After staring at the industrial city and trying to make out the mountain through the smog and pollution, we stopped to have some beers and appetizers at the restaurant at the top. It was lovely and exciting to be in this new place, with so many really interesting people. Kyle went with a group, including the second couple, to the ritzy mall that was so commercialized it felt like New York City. He said that it was by far the nicest mall he had ever been to. Surrounding the mall were restaurants such as TGI Fridays, Beni Hanas, Ruth's Chris Steak House and information helpers on segways roaming around the mall. However the trip was cut short because Aaron started to feel ill. That evening, paramedics, who make house calls, came by. We hoped that it was just the flu, but because they had traveled all over the country Malaria and other diseases were mentioned by the doctor as possibilities. After a couple of days they ruled out Malaria, but moved them to a hotel closer to the hospital. The illness turned out to be Dangay (sp?) fever which is a form of the black plague (don't worry, it's not found in Chile), but only kills about 10% of it's victims. There are evidently 4 different strands of this disease that is transmitted through mosquito's. A major risk area is Easter Island, which is where they were placed, and since it is more deadly the second time around, they have moved Aaron and Christine to our region, not our city, but an hour and a half away. Actually they told us that Texas is a risk area as well for Dangay fever.
Monday was our first day of true orientation and what an orientation it was! We were told to dress up formally because we were meeting officials of the Government and program. We were bussed to a building, shoved into an auditorium and made to endure lectures in Spanish, which went through one ear and out the other. I really had no idea what was being said, but the frustrating part was, I cared to know. I wanted to know about this program and how it was started and everything that they covered, but they spoke to us, the teachers of English, in Spanish, and close to half of us didn't understand enough Spanish to gather a worthwhile amount. Half way through, we were given a break with cookies, cakes and tea, which we would soon discover was part of the daily routine in Chile. (my favorite part). Tuesday was the history of Chile... in Spanish. I honestly didn't know why I bothered to show up to Spanish only events. They only helped in making me feel more stupid about myself for not being able to speak Spanish. The discussion about the Chilean school system was in English, which I was very grateful for. Just to give you some idea of the Chilean school system, there are three different types; completely publicly funded, half private, half government, and full private. The half and half schools and the full private are mostly Catholic. Most of the schools don't have enough rooms in the school for each teacher to have their own classroom so instead, the students remain in the same room throughout the day while different teachers travel around, having to lug their own materials with them. Some of the schools gear their students towards University while others are vocational. All schools require uniforms which is why the students are refered to as penguins. Last year, students went on strike and demanded reforms to the school systems, it was called the Penguino revolt. The government consented to the changes, but nothing as of now has been done. They warned us that if nothing changes, it might occur again. It wasn't violent, there just wasn't school for several days.
Wednesday was a day of revival for almost everyone. We were broken up into groups to visit our first schools and we were like movie stars. The school we visited on Wednesday was a vocational school with three different electives along with their basic classes, sewing, cooking and babysitting. Very few of their students make it to University from this school. English is important for the country because of their booming tourism and if they want to compete in the international market it is a necessary asset. Many of their English teachers don't even speak English. Teachers make pitiful wages here and the only way they can afford to travel to an English speaking country is if they receive a scholarship or if they marry someone with money. There were two teachers at our school, a young woman who spoke well, and a nice old gentleman who made a concerted effort, but seemed as capable in English as I am in Spanish. There were a few girls in the class who spoke English very well and spoke for their classmates. This school was an all girls and after our tea and cake break and our introduction to their school, recess began. From that moment on, I couldn't hear the sound my own voice, let alone any of the many girls who were trying to practice their English. Girls were screaming from every which direction, but they all seemed to be facing the same direction. There were 12 people in our group including James, the tall and handsome Australian and Cameron a very tall and brawny black guy. Chile has a little diversity, but I haven't seen any black people since I have been here except for Cameron and Cameron is impossible to miss without being the only black person in almost all Chile. The screaming girls were chasing Cameron and James taking their camera phones out and taking pictures. Which ever way they turned, a mob followed them. It was a hilarious scene, one that I will always carry with me. When we got back to the hostel to share our experiences we realized that every school was very different but everyone had the feeling of being movie stars! We were ready to learn how to teach so we could help these schools with so little resources and English teachers who aren't really familiar with the subject that they teach.

Boston and New York!

Boston and New York!

Arriving into Boston was a giant push into reality that the rest of the world experiences a 'real' season called winter. Before we left Texas, we experienced a beautiful week of 70 degree weather. It was obvious that winter had made it's last grab for stablitity and had desperatly tried some attempts at swirling cold air, but spring had grabbed it by it's legs and not so kindly, showed it the door. Winter had officially left the building, and spring was showing it's beautiful, floral, sunny face.
Stepping off the airplane into Boston, I was immediatly thrown into confusion and pain. Instead of a wonderful warm welcome, Boston, unkindly threw icicles into my exposed skin. Spring was blossoming in Texas, but Boston was still under the evil ice princess' thumb. With wind chill it was negative 6 degrees! My amazing husband, thankfully had not been so naive as I, and thought to pack our scarf and hat close to the edge of our baggage. Bundled in nothing but a thin shirt, a light jacket, a scarf and a hat, we battled with the cold and our impossible luggage alike. Both battles were fierce, and I almost gave out to the cold waiting for the bus for over 20 minutes at an unprotected bus stop. Lorie, Kyle and I huddled like peguins, sharing our body heat and using our backs as shields to the unrelenting wind, but it was still so cold, I considered crossing the streets to the heated stores, but that would risk my missing the bus, so I toughed it out, but not without much wimpering and complaining. Poor Kyle had to struggle with our huge cumbersome trunk. Dragging it up subway stairs, and 4 flights of stairs to Lorie and David's apartment.
Although the trip started out a constant struggle, the rest of our time spent in Boston, was nothing but lovely. Lorie and David were amazing hosts. Their apartment is very small with a bedroom acting as their living room, dining room and entertainment room. They have very little storage space, but it was so amazing what they were able to do with a little creativity. Their kitchen was obviously very used and very loved. We had a wonderful home-cooked dinner almost every night. At one time we had 6 people staying in their studio apartment. It was great fun eating, laughing and sharing with friends. Lorie and David had another friend ,Mike, coming in to town the day after we arrived. He was interviewing for an art school in Boston (which he was accepted into). And Jennifer came in for the weekend to explore Boston with us, making us 6. We went to a new-age concert which was interesting, we explored the Boston Fine Arts Museum and walked the walking tour which included a really old grave yard holding legends such as Ben Franklin's parents, Sam Adams, Paul Reviere,and John Hancock. Each gravestone was nicely decorated with a flying skull which was kind of creepy. We ate New England clam chowder, oyster po-boys, and discussed the hardships of the orignal settlers and their amazing ablity to survive the harsh winter (if they survived). Overall the trip was beatiful, relaxing and a wonderful start to our adventure.
Getting to New York was simpler than I imagined. We hopped on a greyhound bus for $15 and traveled for 4 hours. Jennifer met us at the bus station and helped us with our bags to her beautiful apartment. I was expecting something much smaller for a New York apartment, and granted her room is the size of a closet, but the living and dinning area is spacy and full of natural light. The doorman was always friendly and properly New York like. Tiggy greeted us with her incredible loving and playful spirit. It is amazing that Tiggy has Aurora genes, they are so unlike the other. (Oh Aurora, how I miss her!) We walked Tiggy every morning because Jennifer had to get up early for work, but I was amazed at the lack of places to go to the bathroom. So many people have dogs, but there is no grass available to soil. The sidewalk seemed to suit Tiggy just fine, but I didn't enjoy picking up the brown gifts she left in her path. Tiggy is a bad walker, very demanding, pulling herself sick and barking at anything with a pulse, but overall, as long as she wasn't outside, she was wonderful to be around. Every morning Kyle and I went down to the corner to eat bagels which were wonderful and covered in cream cheese. Jennifer also took us to a concert which I must admit was better than the first. We explored the Met and some of Central Park. We ventered to the Bronx Zoo which was much better than I imagined. Kyle and I cooked spagetti with shrimp one evening and I was astounded at the lack of spices in their apartment. Jen seems to consist on grapefruit and oatmeal.
It was obvious that New York was not ready for us to leave because as we were attempting our departure, the worst winterstorm of the season attacked New York and left us waiting and wondering if our flight to Chile would be canceled or just delayed. Luckily, it was only delayed for four hours. By the time we recieved our meal, it was 11:30 in the evening and we hadn't eaten for nearly 12 hours. My stomach cramped as soon as I scarfed down the airplane food and I quickly fell asleep. The plane ride was 10 hours and I slept for 8. I woke up just in time for breakfast and then we landed in Buenos Aires, but of course we had missed our connecting flight. We then had to wait another 4 hours in that airport. After much boredom we got on the plane to our destination, Santiago, but we were in for a rude surprise. Even though I had e-mailed in advance to warn the Ministry that we would not be at the airport at the original time, no one was there to meet us. We waited for 30 minutes and finally realized that we had no one meeting us. I was honestly feeling two conflicting emotions, one of fear and one of pure anger. We were not given the address of the hostel we were staying at, we were assured a ride from the airport. I went looking for a computer with luck, but Kyle had better luck. He found a computer looked in my email and found Stephanie's number. A very kind Chilean man called the number for us and arranged a taxi to the hostel. It was not a good starting off point, but as we continually learn every day, one must have lots of patience in Chile.

For more pictures: copy and paste this. There are two seperate links here.

http://utexas.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2324736&l=51c20&id=7908592

http://utexas.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2322547&l=c1cf0&id=7908592

The Joy of Packing

cking, Packing, my favorite activity in all of the world. I can´t tell you how much I love packing. I love it almost as much as the screeching metal wheels on metal tracks of old and rusty subways attempting to stop for travelers. It is music to my ears, just as packing rejouvanates my senses! :) So getting to Boston was much more difficult than I anticipated. Kyle and I had been attempting to gather and buy everything we would need for our 8 month trip in the months ahead, and we placed them all together so that we would have a much easier time packing. Wednesday was the day before we were to leave, and also the day of my final exam in mi courso de español. Arriving late at the house, we decided a nap was much needed if our patience was to continue along a productive path. After our nap we began the joyful activity of packing. If you can`t tell by now, I am using sarcasim because I abhore packing, however, I should note that my husband is inlove with packing and deeply enjoys the all of the activities including the organization aspect. His boyscout-ness gurgles to the surface as I am pacing around the room, wondering why I have chosen to leave the country forcing myself to perform the tortuous activity of packing. We began at 5:00 in the afternoon, left for a good ´ol last Texas meal at Rudy´s at 7 pm, made a last trip to Walmart for essentials, and continued to pack into the wee morning hours. I estimated our finishing time to be at 2 am, but I was very wrong. We did not finish until 5 am. I blame the slowness on Kyle because of his slow and methodical pace, however I also blame him for the thouroughness of our packing. He may be slow, but he is an excellent packer and thinks of many things that I do not, such as shoelaces, carabeners and a medical kit. However things like our video camera and spanish book were misplaced before the explosion (packing) happened, and we therefore left without our magic movie maker :(
Because we went to bed at 5 am, we only got 1 hour of sleep because we had to be out of the door by 6:45 am to drive to Austin to recieve our Typhoid shots that were scheduled for 8:15 am before our 10:50 am flight in Austin. However we did not expect to hit traffic so far South of Austin and therefore had to cancel our shots opting not to miss our first flight on our long adventure!
We arrived at the airport, and had to pay an extra $20 for exceeding the weight limit and went on our way. We were actually quite pleased at only paying $20 because part of what kept us up so late was figuring out how heavy our bags were and what was acceptable for each individual airline. After rearranging, and transferring many heavy items to our carry-ons, Kyle made an executive decision to remove his sweaters, which weighed 10 lbs by themselves, to save us mucho dinero. He reasoned that Chile is famous for it´s wool, and clothing is often cheaper, so it wouldn´t be too much of a hassle to buy new Chilean sweaters in Chile.
The flight was lovely, however we couldn´t sleep. I assume our adrenaline took over our souls and infused our veins with temporary energy!