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Published: August 31st 2006
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This entry is frank and honest and may not be for the faint of heart (Mommycakes I´m referring to you.)
Had I written this blog this morning, you most certainly would have received a bleak and even sad description of my state of mind. However, having just finished an excellent pasta dinner and salad, my first with lemon (Monica, me gusta mucho la ensalada con limon) I am able to tell the story of my arrival in Chile with a happier tune. But, let me not step ahead of myself. Many of you are wondering, Chile? But what of Argentina? While enrolled in my TEFL course this summer I spoke with a number of people who highly recommended Chile. I was not fond of the idea of living in a large city, Buenos Aires is one, and I was easily swayed by information about the beaches of Chile. The decision was made.
On Monday I left my life in the United States. No, that is overly dramatic and not completely true, as evidenced by the size of the suitcase and backpacks that filled the back of my mom´s car as she drove me to the bus station. I packed many of the material possessions of my life to bring along with me. The only stress at that point was how I was going to move my large bags from place to place by myself. As you will hear later in the story, that shouldn´t have been a worry at all. I took the bus to Chicago O´Hare, calming myself with a current favorite song by Mason Jennings, ¨Be Here Now¨ and some tunes from Andrew Bird (Thank you Meg!) Once at O´Hare I was surprised to find that I handled my luggage with ease and after checking in and going through security found that my flight was delayed due to weather conditions. The delay gave time for a tiny doubt to creep into my brain, ¨Why am I leaving my comfortable and predictable life?¨
The delayed flight was the first occurence in a chain of events that allowed more and more doubt to seep in. I arrived an hour late for my connecting flight in Miami; I obviously did not connect. It was 12:30 A.M. on Tuesday. People milled around the airport waiting for the ticket counters to open the next morning. I found a quiet place to lay down and tried to ignore the floor polishing that was going on around me. Self pity crept in at that point. Knowing that other people were in the same situation was the only thing that kept me from crying. I blew up my travel pillow, covered my eyes, and tried to cover up with my pillowcase in order to shield myself from the air conditioning that was blowing down all around me.
At 4 AM a line began to form, as that was the time we were told the ticket window would be open. We were given the wrong information, it was to open at 5. I held my place in line. I currently had a ticket to leave Miami in two days, on Thursday, with American Airlines. I had one chance at leaving on Tuesday with LAN if they would agree to buy my seat from American Airlines. I left the counter with a smile, but also with the information that my bags may not be transferred because of the limited time before departure. I was on my way to Chile! Wait, what? Now that it was finally happening it began to sink in. Again, ¨Why am I leaving my comfortable and predictable life?¨
The plane was like a cocoon. I watched movies and tv in English, slept, ate tasty food, and slept some more. Each announcement was first in Spanish and then in English. We landed and as I was about to disembark a number of expletives flashed through my head, ending with the question, ¨What have you done?¨
The line at immigration moved quickly and I then found myself at baggage claim... with no bags. This is the point in the story where I realized I need not have worried about transporting all of my luggage on my own. There was no luggage to transport. I approached an employee saying, ¨Mis maletas no estan aqui¨. My bags aren´t here. She replied, ¨We have a message for you.¨ The message was that my bags were not there. As I was previously warned, they did not make the transfer in Miami. Next I was asked for my phone number and address where I would be staying in Santiago. I had neither because my original plan did not involve staying in Santiago. I was given the number of the airline and a reference number and told to call when I had that information. My journey through Customs on the way out was quick; they were surprised by the absence of luggage.
I left the airport in a taxi headed to an internet cafe in downtown Santiago. One task that was left undone in the United States was to write down some contact names and numbers that were given to me by friends, Monica and Summer. I collected the numbers from my email and then made the first call to Edgardo. Forty-five minutes later he met me and we took a taxi to his home. And it really is a happy ending, or beginning. In my first night in Chile I made a visit to the supermarket (I drove! Thank goodness I drive stick-shift. Edgardo tore his Achilles tendon in a futbol game last Sunday and is unable to drive), had a nice sandwich for dinner, and slept on a futon with clean sheets and warm blankets. All of those happenings made it easier for me to get out of bed this morning and put my dirty clothes on my clean body and get back out there.
There are still some uncertainties.
Q: When will my bags arrive? A: If they were ever transferred to LAN I may have them in the morning. If they are still with American Airlines I may receive them on Friday. Apparently AA has cancelled all flights due to Hurricane Ernesto.
Q: Will my bags ever arrive? A: I must prepare for the horror if they do not.
Q: What will be missing from my bags when they do arrive? A: When Edgardo made the call for me this morning they asked for a description of the items that are in my bags. I have this horrible image of them opening the bags and everything bursting out, never to fit in again. Will I ever see my Carbon Leaf t-shirt again?
While waiting for final answers to these questions I took to the streets of Providencia, a section of Santiago. I had an enjoyable day of learning. I figured out the exchange rate so that I can make intelligent purchases, I learned that you need to take a number in order to be waited on at the drugstore, and that even though I don´t really enjoy shopping, the sight of a mall is calming to me. Like any large city there were crowded sidewalks and I stood out, not only because I´m blonde, but because I was wearing capri pants and it is winter. Tomorrow when I take in El Centro I will be wearing my new jeans, ropa interior limpia, and a fresh pair of socks. I´m holding out another day for the new t-shirt; I have one on loan from Edgardo that I like. When I returned from my afternoon downtown I read, took a nap, and then chatted with Edgardo (in English) as he made pasta (He cooked, I cleaned). I reviewed my events of the day and asked questions about protocol, vocabulary, etc. And as I finish writing I am thinking, ¨Now that was not so bad¨. How quickly things change.
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Tricia
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Me siento tan entusiasmada para vos (well, tu - you are in Chile)
Oh Sara (that's Sah-rhah, now)... I so look forward to these blogs and to hearing about all of your experiences, which I'm fortunate, are uniquely your own. And driving - now I'm REALLY impressed! I will admit, your story makes it all come flowing back... oh that first flight to S. AMerica -- Santiago. I left on a Thursday, to arrive on Saturday (ah how one learns patience)...at least you didn't have an almost 5am fist fight in the cockpit with nicotine deprived, "cut off" Chileans. ...Ahh, the memories. So late flight, check. Lost bags, check. I'm betting on 3-6 days for the bags to arrive. But you've already got the priorities - clean underwear, toothbrush. It's the little things in life (really). ;) I am SO glad you have found a great friend in Edgardo - and I bet he's just as flattered to be the Chilean ambassador to a sharp, cute, on the ball American woman. So I'll wait for your next blog - I really can't wait. We're living vicariously through you hear. Can't wait to hear about all those new experiences. Te quiero mucho - Tricia