GOOOOOOL!

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This entry marks the dates of Wednesday, October 15, through Saturday, October 18

One day Mimi saw an advertisement for an amazing deal. It included a bus ride to Santiago, a ticket to the much anticipated Chile-Argentina game, and a bus back that night, to arrive in Conce early the next morning…. All for an unimaginable fifty dollars. So I obviously hopped on the bandwagon, buying tickets from a man who said he was the bus driver and that the tickets also included a free barbecue at his cousin’s house. A bit sketchy? Perhaps. But an international game? I’m pretty sure that erased all my doubts.

So one early Wednesday morning, approximately ten of us from the program found ourselves on an everyday/tiny/uncomfortable bus headed for the capital city of Santiago, accompanied by five or six strange Chilean men. We would eventually end up at the cousin’s house for a barbecue full of more strangers, who soon became our best friends after filling our bellies with food and a bit of beer. We all then drove towards the stadium, where a pilgrimage was taking place. The mess of yelling and the color red, and the rush to get there on time, caused some of us to end up on opposite sides of the stadium. But we all got the seats that we paid for.

One of my eyeballs somehow managed to get a view of the field for the second half of the first half. But that’s all it needed. That’s when we scored. The stadium erupted, and the crowd of red looked so much like a frothing sea of lava. I couldn’t hear or see, and I certainly got stepped on a few times. But the happiness and excitement was contagious, and would continue to be so for the following week. No one in the city slept that night, and the following day we already saw billboards with photographs of the winning team.

We decided we didn’t want to go back to the life of school just yet. So we passed on the overnight bus and booked a hostel. The energy of the city was just too appealing. On Thursday (while the rest of the program was in class), a group of about seven of us opted for wandering about the gigantic city, getting lost multiple times, eating some rare-to-find middle eastern food, and heading to the zoo.

And these are the beings we saw at the zoo: two silky albino peacocks, an insanely hairy camel, perfectly painted zebras, and amazingly intelligent monkeys (one of the guys was playing catch with one of them for a while through a hole in the cage, with a ball of leaves). There was also an elephant, which we caught in the act of releasing its turds (larger than my head), and peeing (its phallus easily larger than my leg). I never know whether to appreciate or hate a zoo, however, for it is such a sad yet beautiful thing. Perhaps a bit more sad.

After being kicked out of the zoo (don’t worry, not for misdemeanors, only for staying too long), we challenged ourselves by hiking up the cloud-reaching hill that lay behind it. It is the largest hill in Santiago, called “Cerro Santa Lucía,” and there is an enormous statue of the Virgin Mary at the top. Only four of us actually wanted to climb it, so climb it we did. At first we were on a trail, which steadily got a bit steeper and steeper. Then, quite stupidly, we listened to the guy who wanted to go off the trail and start climbing up the rocks. Granted, it did look like it led to a street. It didn’t, and there was nowhere to go at that point but even further up. So the four of us, two guys and two girls, vertically rock climbed up this hill, which at the time seemed more like a mountain that had it in for me. Around every rock it looked like it would end, then we of course discovered it didn’t. Further up we were welcomed by thistles and more slippery ground, allowing me to possibly fall to my death.

But we came out of it breathing, pulling ourselves up on one side of the statue, getting horrendously confused stares from the people who had come to enjoy the sunset. And I don’t blame them, seeing as how four dirty gringos covered in thistles and ripped clothing had just come out of the wild. But it was so much more worth it because of that. From the ground I hadn’t the slightest clue I’d be able to see so much city from up top. I understand now how it’s possible that 2/3 of the population of Chile can live in this one city. I was so high up, yes, but still I could hardly see the furthest edges of it. And it is all city - a huge sea, an enormous mass of it.

I feel like even if I lived there it would take me years to see it all. I discovered this the following day (Friday), when I at first walked around the city by myself. I felt like I walked the length of the city of Concepción, but in Santiago that turned out to be a few blocks. Then I met up with my “primo” Pablo (cousin from my family here. For pictures of him see the entry “vino.”). We walked, then walked, then ate, then walked, and walked, and walked and walked. And ate. And all the while talked (excellent Spanish practice that day). I asked him at our farthest point of walking what new neighborhoods we had gone through, and he told me we still hadn’t left the center. And that was after a few hours of walking.

He was an incredible guide though, and I am so glad to have had him there with me. We visited “La Moneda” (the presidential building that got bombarded during the coup) and the museum below it, many cute secret alleyways of intricately sculpted buildings, and a Mapuche artisan center. This center was a hole-in-the-wall hidden paradise full of artisan shops and a small kitchen, where we could see the cooks make fresh sopaipillas (essentially fried bread prepared with different sauces) and the best empanadas of potatoes, carrots and cheese. Definitely a place only a resident would know of.

Then later that night we gringos attended a barbecue at our hostel, made some friends from Germany and San Diego, and slept. Personally, it was my feet that needed to sleep more than the rest of me.
Overall, I give my approval to the city of Santiago. There is never a boring moment, every building is beautiful, something interesting is hidden around every corner, and it’s crazy as hell. But I love it there, and was actually considering extending for the next semester (don’t worry! I’ve decided against it.). I truly hope that I may return in years to come, along with, of course, some of you.






Ps sorry my journals aren’t of as good writing quality as they originally were and therefore probably aren’t as entertaining. I just don’t have as much time/don’t really want to spend the time/could be doing other fun Chilean things. But anyways…




More fun facts!

My hermano here recently informed me that Chile is the number one or two consumer per capita of bread in the world. I am not surprised in the slightest. There is a motto my papá says sometimes: “A breakfast without bread is not a breakfast.” It is all white bread. Their “pan molde” (wheat bread) is still white.

My family goes through a box of 100 teabags every few days. I am personally responsible for downing a tenth of those daily (i.e. at least ten cups of tea every day). It is all black, and I think my teeth are slowly turning yellow.

All digital clocks are in military time here, but it’s still read like 12-hour time. Therefore, if it is four o’clock in the afternoon, the time would say 16:00, but a person would still say “four o’clock.”

Local elections all over the country took place last week. Therefore all the candidates have hung their campaign posters in every space imaginable, complete with cheesy smiles and thumbs-up signs. I personally would not vote for any of them.

“Huevón” - Chilean slang meaning “dude.” Literal meaning is “large egg.” If said in a harsher tone, may have a harsher meaning.

Pue’, Pu’, p’ - There are many intricacies to the Chilean language, and one of them includes shortening words down to as little as possible. “Pues,” meaning well, so, like, etc, has been shortened down to a letter (p’), and this letter is said quite often.

We are not called Americans here. No, do not say such a thing to a Chilean. Once I was randomly approached by an old Chilean man who spoke English: “Why you call yourself American? You not American, we all American cachai?” Yes, señor, we are all indeed American. Therefore, we must introduce ourselves as “North American” or from “Los Estados Unidos.” “Gringo,” however, works just as well, and also manages to get a few chuckles.

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Photos

The pitch
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

The crowd
Lindsey Schwartz

The passion of the multitudes
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

At the zoo
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

Hairy much?
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

The top of the hill
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

View of Santiago from the Monstrous hill
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz

Just in time for the sunset
Photo - Lindsey Schwartz