Cachai?

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…As part of our classwork, all of us are required to get into small groups, interview different sorts of people and create a portfolio consisting of notes, pictures, a lexicon, etc. So yesterday (Saturday), I joined the rest of group 3 to go to Lota, a mining town about an hour’s bus ride away that hosts workers we’ll eventually be interviewing. The day was perfect, but in the morning we couldn’t enjoy it because we spent our time in the ground, beneath the ocean floor, in a mine. Dark, wet, and small, it held stories of back-breaking work, many deaths, and a political and economic history. This particular mine had been closed, but before when workers went to mine the coal, they’d work twelve hours a day, bent over in the dark. I think this means they never saw the sun, which in my opinion would be hell. In fact, this particular mine is called “the Devil’s whistle,” and there were many stories of miners encountering the Devil. After ascending (very gratefully), we walked past colorful neighborhoods and saloon-like stores, and finally stopped to eat at an eclectic place that seemed more like someone’s home than a restaurant, even more so because there seemed to be only one very motherly old woman doing all the cooking and serving. We all then continued with our “hermanos” (Chilean students we were paired up with) towards the park of Lota, the main attraction of the city. This is a huge expanse of green, full of towering trees, suspiciously plastic-looking sculptures, ponds, ducks, shops, hills and endless maze-like paths. I was completely lost the whole time. I was right where I needed to be, however, when I saw the view of the ocean. From the cliffs on the edge of the park one can see numerous enormous fishing boats, a dock fully dressed in seagulls and their excrement, and rolling hills even more splattered with color than those of Valpraíso. Someone mentioned an interesting fact they heard somewhere, that people here paint their houses such crazy colors so that when they’re on they’re boats out at sea, they can spot which house is theirs. Very cool, in my opinion. I wouldn’t mind returning to the lovely and quiet city by the sea.



And now, for more observations:


“Cachai?” is something that is said a lot in a conversation, which means “get it?” but in English literally translates into “do you catch it?”

One of my hermanas, Vero, is right now blasting classical music from her end of the house, while my other hermana, Lore, blasts a mix of contemporary Chilean and old American pop from hers (This country seems to be a little behind in terms of contemporary American popular music. My hermana, for example, likes Kelly Clarkson, Evanescence and Avril Levigne)

My Tío on my papá’s side has a mustache to compete with my papá’s eyebrows. I have not taken any pictures of him yet, but I shall. He also knows how to play every Victor Jarra song on the guitar.

There are stray dogs everywhere. I noticed this especially in Valparaíso, where they would roam in packs with a leader. They all seem to be very lazy and indifferent to people.

Raggaeton - The only thing one will hear in a discotec. Annoying? Yes. We gringos are truly missing our hip hop.

Food observations (very important):

“Palta” = Avocado

“Porotos” = Beans

Ají = The love of my life; a spicy sauce made up of bell peppers, chili peppers, crushed walnuts, salt, lemon, and oil. Goes well with everything, and will certainly be in supply when I return to the states.

Mayo. Unfortunately put on just about everything. All of the gringos tend to deny it, but that always comes with questioning looks.

I drink probably ten cups of tea a day, and am constantly being fed.



Until next time, Chau!

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Photos

Colorful houses of Lota
Photo - Katie Brimm

Bay and barcos
Photo - Katie Brimm