Nobody loves you when you're an English teacher.

Hello, again.
It’s been a long time since I’ve even thought about this site, let alone written anything - until I was reminded of it recently by a man called Mike from Swansea who’s bored with his job and prefers to read my stories.

So, I suppose you may or may not want to know what’s been happening down here in Santiago, Chile for the last four months.


In October we went down south to visit Puerto Varas, Puerto Montt, Isla de Chiloé and the a few other places and it was lovely all the two weeks long. Jessica had a few days’ work to get through which, in reality, took about 39 minutes of the two weeks. So, we were happy. And I was especially happy and content with the weather down south because it reminded me of home (believe it or not) with the silent drizzle, the clouds hanging heavy in the cold slate sky and the occasional boy racer flying past - sitting on two copies of the Chilean Yellow Pages and blasting out ‘Jenny from the block’. I thought to myself maybe the Chilean as well as British boy racers still don't realise that everyone who witnesses their mothers' cars and Argos sound systems booming past thinks they are a tw*t.
And certainly not the 'coolest' or most attractive guy 'on the block'.

We came back to the big smog (that’s a pun on the big smoke) and I still didn’t have any work lined up but I did have an interview with an English language institute.

Santiago is a tough, tough place to live.
It’s dawned on me after these few months that there is a reason why the people who dwell in this city are so stressed, so aggressive, so red in the face. That reason(s) is the noise, the smog, the traffic, the worst public transportation system in the world other than that of Port Talbot, the threat of football hooligans on the subway or Jennifer Lopez on the telly, the constant knocking down of classical architecture and the throwing up of plasterboard apartments for young, indebted professionals. As I sit here thinking of the next line to write there is a pneumatic drill ripping up the pavement outside and two young punks in the apartment above playing Michael Jackson's 'Bad' at almost full volume. So, it’s not always a bed of the clichéd roses like people think. Sometimes it is, but usually you’ll wake up with a thorn in your arse.

I got a job as an English teacher and I got engaged.

There have been some interesting moments with the students who have included airline pilots, retired women, TV producers, spoilt brats, Newsreaders, engineers and doctors. Here's one or two...

During a class about historical Chilean figures I asked a forty-year-old telecommunications engineer who his hero was, dead or alive. The others students looked at him in anticipation. I did, too. He rubbed his goatee beard, looked at the ceiling deep in thought and replied with a poker-straight face, ‘My hero? Hmmm… Well… I think… maybe it is Batma- … no, no…it has to be Spiderman.’

During a class about weather conditions and vocabulary associated with it I had two students. One a talkative young woman who was a doctor and spoke good English, the other a young Chilean man who spoke well but lacked confidence and was a tad shy when there were other students present. Just after I finished explaining the difference between ‘rainy’ and ‘raining’, the young man overcame

Isla de Chiloé
This place is Ireland and Wales all over, except that they don't play much rugby and speak in musical tones here.

his personal barrier and felt the need to ask, ‘excuse me, but how do you spell ‘asshole’?’

On a positive note, it’s been a great experience which I have enjoyed and am enjoying right now. I have learned more about English grammar and Chilean culture in the last three months than I have in the last 29 years of my life. I look at it as a grammar apprenticeship.

Christmas came and went and we had a lovely time, but it’s really not the same out here. They put their decorations up a few days before the event - not in September like in Swansea. Almost nobody sends cards to each other because it's not their tradition. And the raging heat replaces the black, bone-freezing cold of back home. But I really did miss it all - the coziness of December evening, the twinkling lights as wrapped up shoppers finish their lists on a Thursday night in Oxford Street, the huge turkey, the boiled carrots, the stuffing, the Boxing Day salads with dry-as-a-bone turkey leftovers, the roasted peanuts and empty cans of Fosters and Carling in the bin - or Stella Artois if you’ve got money. But we did have a lovely time out here with Jessica's family and for New Year we spent three days at the beach, got a sun tan and watched the famous fireworks displays at Valparaiso and all along the coast.

Did I mention I was getting married?
Well yes, late March is when it all happens (legally speaking 23rd of February too!). As those of you who have exchanged the rings will know, this is a stressful time right now where our daily lives are a sparkling spanish whirlwind of phone calls, cakes, invitations, suits, people fishing for invites and general everyday problems

See you all soon,

Jamie

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