Things Fall Apart (Torres del Paine)

The towers of Torres del Paine.

My friends and I took a bus, a plane, another bus, and then two other buses to go backpacking through the famous Torres del Paine National Park park in southern Patagonia. With enough rice and beans to last us a week, we headed into the mountains for 3 days of fun around 2,500 miles north of Antarctica. I was happily walking along the park when I tripped—on nothing. I felt relatively no pain so I continued on. After dropping off our hiking bags stuffed with sleeping bags the size of a 1-year-old at the camp site, we headed up to see the famous torres, or towers. The view was spectacular, with a pristine blue lake accepting the ice making its way down from the imposing towers surrounded by misty clouds. The low, heavy clouds are one of my favorite parts about southern Chile. Instead of ruining the view, I think they add a mystical appearance to the landscape.

Trafficked was stopped for 2 hours on our way back
because there was a car race on the highway.

Later that night, I was getting ready to go to bed when intense pain started to seep into my ankle. I was told by the camp site employee that I should return to Puerto Natales, the nearest city, in the morning. I had come all the way down to the end of the world and was not ready to end this trip, so I decided to wait until the morning to see how I felt. The next day, we woke up to soaked hiking bags and wet tents and sleeping bags from the 10 hours of rain during the night. We finally left, a few hours behind schedule thanks to the rain, for me to go back to Puerto Natales and for my friends to continue forward with the trek. Despite the fact that I had a waterproof jacket and boots on, I was soaked from head to toe. The rain was so miserable during the three hour hike back down that two of my friends decided to return to Puerto Natales with me.

Beginning of the W circuit of Torres del Paine.

The hike being cut short wasn't the only thing that went wrong on that trip. Bus tickets, a wallet, souvenirs, and a cell phone were lost, causing moments of panic before most of them were found. Bus tickets were sold out, preventing us from going from one city to the next when we wanted to. This was the most frustrating trip I had taken in Chile and probably anywhere recently. It felt wrong to fly all the way down there only to be lounging in a cafe in a city enjoying cake with wine instead of raising one sore leg after another across the mountains of Torres del Paine. I felt restless. Because we couldn't physically change our location to somewhere outside the city, the only thing we could do was change our attitude. Be grateful for the fact that even if we weren't doing the hike, we were still in Chile.

Enjoying the moment by watching soccer practice.

I decided to take advantage of my situation—being in a touristic city—by going out for brick-oven pizza that night. We squeezed in next to a couple of Australians on the only table in the restaurant. The table was actually a long bench, perfect for travelers to enjoy one another's company. Ten minutes later, a French friend we had made in Chiloé 2 weeks beforehand sat down next to us. And then I remembered why I loved traveling: the people. It's not just the locals whom you meet along the way, but also the travelers from all over the world. You hang out with the travelers for a day or two, or even a few hours, and accept the fact that you will never see them again. You store them in your mind and heart as a memory of your trip, as much a part of your travels as the locals and the sights, and move on. But then, out of nowhere, you run into some of them again!

We thought we even ran into former president Bush!
The locals told us that was definitely not him.

Travelers are the people I want to see over and over again. A love for travel and an interest in the place where we meet one another bring us together and give us the fuel to ignite engaging, eye-opening conversations. That night, we talked for hours with the Australian couple as if we were old friends. Then we left them as abruptly as we had met them. No plans to see one another again. Nothing tangible of them to carry on with us: no photos to remember their faces, no e-mail addresses to write a quick hello, and no Facebook names to look up. Just our memories of them. And a regret that we didn't at least ask for a photo with them.  

Three Languages

On volcán Osorno.

When my parents came to Chile, I spoke three languages: English, Nepali, and Spanish. I translated a lot from Spanish to Nepali instead of to English even though I am far more fluent in English than Nepali. Shifting between Spanish and Nepali was easier because the two languages phonetically flow in a more similar manner, at least to me. For example, I could continue rolling my ''R'' when I switched from Spanish to Nepali.

Because English and Spanish are substantially more similar in their grammar and vocabulary, I have been guilty of trying to translate the exact word and not the idea. But a direct translation often doesn't work. For example, in English, "I am hungry" is generally used to express hunger, but in Spanish, it is "Yo tengo hambre" (I have hunger), not "Yo estoy hambriento" (I am hungry). 

My attempt at practicing Nepali in Chile.

I never explicitly learned Nepali grammar rules; therefore, I don't think about them when I speak Nepali or translate the language. The language is also so different that even if I knew the rules, I wouldn't even think about translating each word into Spanish the way native English speakers do with English. Instead, I would continue to translate chunks of thoughts, which makes for a much smoother translation.

Coming back to how to express hunger in different languages, in Nepali it is "Malai bhok lagyo'' (me to hunger happened). I am not at all confident that lagyo means "happened." But I know when and how to use the verb correctly, which is what properly grasping a language is about. Who would have thought being in Chile, more than 10,000 miles away from Nepal, would help me explore my native language?  
 

High-caste Hindus are not allowed to touch sheep
with long tails. Who knew?

I'm not sure how my parents communicated with Chileans here. They don't speak Spanish except for the few words they had managed to learn before and during their visit. Although my host family's English is better than my parents' Spanish, they can say only very basic things. Somehow the language gap didn't stop them from understanding each other. My host father took them on a tour of the campo when I was in school. While catching up with my parents, I found out that they learned more than I did about the campo on the tour. Another day, my mother cooked Nepali food for us at my host parents' house in a kitchen completly unfamiliar to her. She didn't know where anything was or how to ask for the cooking utensils and ingredients. But somehow she and my host mother were able to figure out what the other was saying to come up with a delicious meal.

 Only organic peanuts, please! I'm so picky about peanut butter
that I had my parents bring a jar from the US.

My host mom, a few days later, cooked cauliflower and rice, Nepali style. I was so touched that she made the effort to learn from my mother and make Nepali food! My host sister said that she liked this style of cauliflower more than the salad we usually have. Score! My host family also has been incredibly accommodating to my diet. At first I was worried that my being a vegetarian and somewhat of a health freak would be a nuisance to the family, but they seemed to have adjusted really well. In fact, my host mom told me recently that because of me, the family is eating more vegetables and she is trying to eat more healthy. Score again! This week, I was eating mantequilla de maní (peanut butter) for once when my host mom took some of it and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. So proud.

English +

Stereotypical sopaipilla haircut of flaites.
We've discussed flaites to question the stereotypes.

I would like my students to walk away from our semester together not only with a better knowledge of English, but also as more open-minded, conscientious, and empowered human beings. As I strongly believe that the images we are exposed to can affect our attitude and sense of self-worth, I try to promote diversity and confidence through the ones I use. For example, I avoid using photos of women with heavy make up or of model-like people. Since I have not seen any Asians and only a few black people in Osorno, I choose images with racial and ethnic diversity. I regularly show them videos and photos of Nepali culture to expose them to countries beyond the Latin American and English-speaking worlds.

To get their minds working harder, I showed one of my classes, for a lesson on traveling, a video of an Amazonian tribe that had never been exposed to the world outside their own. I explained to them that the speaker in the video feared that logging around that area would lead to environmental destruction and the wiping away of the isolated tribe. We then discussed, in simple and broken English, if we should make contact with these people. I was impressed with the teenagers' ability to consider the situation from various perspectives. 

The swastika used as decoration for a Hindu wedding.

While many of my kids are open to thinking critically about the world, I sometimes have to nudge them in the more tolerant and sensitive direction. When a student calls his or her fellow classmate gay I tell the students that there is nothing wrong with being gay and that I have plenty of gay friends. Another issue that I hope to have effectively dealt with by the time I leave is the swastika in reference to Nazism. When I first saw it drawn on a whiteboard in school, I approached my host teacher about it. He told me that while the kids knew about World War II, they may not have understood the extent to which people suffered under the Nazi regime and the twisted usage of the Swastika (an auspicious Hindu symbol, as well as other peaceful symbols in other religions). I am planning to integrate the concept of religious tolerance and cultural diversity and information about the holocaust into a lesson or two.

In the meantime, I have been addressing the issue as it comes up, such as when a student jokingly wrote the word ''Nazi'' as one of the words for a game of Bingo. I've been wary of this class since seeing the swastika drawn on the whiteboard of its homeroom. I paused the class and tried to have a discussion about WWII with the students. They thought it was irrelevant to them because Jews, people they probably never come across, were murdered. I told them that other people died as well, but giving examples of such people on the spot wasn't easy. For example, to kids who say that being gay is gross, the torture and murder of homosexuals may not be something that hits home to them. Last week, some of the students from this class requested to watch a movie in class. Perfect. I am going to show them a movie about the holocaust or videos on how the Nazi regime tried to obliterate not just Jews, but also other groups of people, people my students could potentially relate to.

Another time, I approached a middle school student when I saw a swastika drawn in his notebook, hoping that he didn't understand what the sign meant. But when he told me he knew about WWII and the holocaust, I called for all of my students' attention. I explained to them that the swastika was not a sign they should draw because its usage led to the murder of more than 6 million people. I wrote out the number so that they understood just how many people were killed—numbers in English are hard for the kids to get. I explained to them that different kinds of people were killed, lest they thought only Jews were and therefore the holocaust was irrelevant to them. To drive the point home, I told them that people like them were killed too just because they weren't German. This point caused some tension between the students because a reference to Germany and Germans is tricky in Chile. Germans to my children meant those of German heritage living in their own city. They accused the ancestors of one such student of participating in the holocaust. She defended herself, saying that her family had told her about the genocide and that it hadn't supported the Nazis. But they continued attacking her. Because the students' conversation was in rapid Spanish, it took me a minute to clearly understand what was happening. I then stepped in and explained that the holocaust happened in Germany, not in Chile, and if the girl said her family was not involved in it, we had to believe her. Looks like I have a lot more explaining to do than I thought.

Apple strudel made by my host father.

The German population here isn't linked with World War II as far as I can tell. The biggest wave of immigrants came beforehand, from the 1850s to the early 1900s. One conspiracy theory is that Adolf Hitler escaped to and lived in Chile. I'm not sure how many people actually believe that one. Since things on the political and historical front are a bit fuzzy for me, I'll focus on what I do know about German ancestry here: pastries. There are a lot of pastries to be had, such as berlins and strudels. My host father's side of the family is of German heritage, and he, as well as my mom and sister, makes the most amazing apple strudel. Like, I'm obsessed. I dream about it. I await with anticipation the day I can have it again. It's so good it's even made a name for itself at my school, where my mom works and my sister studies. Other German influences include schools. There are German schools scattered throughout southern Chile. I don't know if anyone speaks German except for those who attend or attended German schools. My host father and his side of the family can—hence the family singing Happy Birthday in German for all birthdays in the family. My host father and his family have told me that when they want to translate a word for me in English from Spanish, they first think about the word in German to figure out how to say it in English. Maybe I'll learn German on the side. Maybe.

Fiestas Patrias

Teenagers dancing the cueca.

Chile's Independence Day was on the 18th of September, which somehow meant schools would be closed for the entire week. Día de la Patria, or simply the dieciocho (18th), is celebrated by gorging on massive amounts of meat, empañadas, and other yummy goods; dancing the cueca, Chile's national dance; wearing the national clothes; drinking fermented apple or grape juice called chicha, and other Chilean drinks; and living it up Chilean style. There is a month-long buildup to the 18, with people practicing the cueca, cueca music blaring out of stereos, and stores and stalls selling an abundance of clothes and accessories. Every household is required to show its patriotism by displaying the Chilean flag. If the flag isn't taped to the window or hung in or around their home, the homeowners get fined—or so I've heard.

Bahía Inglesa, near Copiapó.

For my fiestas patrias vacation, I first went to Copiapó, a city in the Atacama desert, the driest desert in the world. I attended my first asado, or BBQ, in Chile. Since I don't eat meat, I grilled veggies smothered with teriyaki sauce. Chilean food generally lacks spice so much that at least 3 people said the teriyaki sauce was spicy. I don't know what they would do if they tried wasabi!

Our take on Mexican food.

On Monday, we headed off to Coquimbo to celebrate the 18 in style. Upon our arrival, we found out that almost everything would be closed for the next few days, including banks and supermarkets. ATM machines had run out of money in several areas in Chile. One store owner gave us the hours for her grocery store, but whenever we went by at those hours, the almacén was closed. For three days, we walked from one grocery store to another in the hopes that something would be open so we would be able to consume more than salt and water. Thankfully the stores in the neighborhood did open sporadically and we were able to prepare feasts with the few ingredients we could find.

The biggest fonda was at the Pampilla.

On the 18th, we put on our red, white, and blue clothes and headed out to the Pampilla, the biggest fonda in Chile. Fondas are essentially state fairs, with stalls after stalls of food, drinks, games, clothes, and other goods. Later that night and at other points during the trip, we not only danced the cueca, but also a myriad of Latin American dances. What I really appreciate about living abroad is discovering how the people of that nation know so much about their neighboring countries and the world. With a universally shared love for music, dance, food, and good company, we are more similar than different. Forget trying to create a dialogue, maybe we should throw a dance party for conflicting groups to settle their disputes. 

Our next adventure was at El Valle de Elqui, which is famous for producing pisco, Chile's unofficial national alcoholic drink. As we were on vacation, we decided to shed our American tendency to rush and embraced Chilean time. We woke up late, headed out the door after noon, enjoyed a slow lunch in a hut-like restaurant, and happily walked through Pisco Elqui with our artisanal ice cream in hand. By the time we decided to get our act together and go on a pisco tour, we had missed the last one heading out of the town. We then decided to head back to Coquimbo by walking along the highway into the next town to take the bus. On our stroll we came upon a sign for a pisco tour by another company—we had missed the ultimate last tour of the day by minutes. 

View of volcanoes on my flight back to Osorno.

I haven't figured out how to incorporate Chilean time into my life but still get things done. On my trip home, I got held up at a restaurant (food took forever to arrive, bill took even longer) and ran to the security gate when I was supposed to be boarding the plane. Once I got there, I was told that the security gate hadn't yet opened for my flight even though it was supposed to take off in 20 minutes. Now you're probably thinking that I should accept this tendency for the transportation system to start off a journey late and take my time getting places. But when I do that, I miss pisco tours and I nearly missed a bus once. My friends and I had to run after the bus as it was exiting the bus terminal. It barely stopped for us as it sped away.

Hopefully by the time I leave Chile, I'll understand how to be late without being late. Until then I'm going to arrive early just in case. 

Hitchhiking! Rainforest! Nepali food!

Rainforest!

I hung out in a rainforest last weekend without realizing it. We went hiking in what I later found out was el Bosque Valdiviano, a temperate rainforest that runs along southern Chile. The view from the lookout point was jaw dropping. I felt like I was in Machu Picchu—minus the ruins, of course. The thick mist blocked the view of the mountaintops, making it seem like we were so high up that the mountains were jutting up into the smoky clouds. The rest of the hike continued to be astonishing. Lush green trees and thin white blankets of water in the air enveloped us as we slid down the slippery forest. It had been raining the entire time, so we climbed on the back of a pickup truck for a ride back toward town. This was the first of the three times we hitchhiked that day. Hitchhiking is a great way to avoid trekking several kilometers on foot and to chat with Chilenos happy to help out a tired (or lazy) traveler. It's common and relatively safe in Chile except in the north. One may end up trying to hitch a ride from drug traffickers up there. No thanks.

Kayaking on Lake Puyehue.

The weather on Sunday was the opposite of the day before. After eating the breakfast that was delivered to our cabin, we decided to take advantage of the warm weather and kayak. I had never kayaked before and thoroughly enjoyed it, even if my friend and I kept going around in circles. The water was vivid green, snow-capped mountains surrounded us, and it was actually hot outside. A perfect day. Except for when I burned my work out clothes in the morning. I wanted them to be toasty before I put them on, so I had placed them on top of the wood heater for a quick minute. Bad idea. I got distracted by a phone call and by the time I returned to retrieve my clothes, they had huge holes in them. 

No ski lifts, just those black straps to hold on to.

The following Friday, one of my co-teachers drove me and my friends almost two hours to Antillanca to go skiing. Because he brought the ski equipments for us, we only had to pay the entrance fee. Sweet! Getting up the mountain (hill really) wasn't so sweet. There were no ski lifts; we had to hold on to a strap on a moving belt. My friend and I both fell down the first time we tried to grasp the strap. I also skidded down backwards at the top when I let go of the strap. I really thought I was going to break my legs, my biggest concern being that I wouldn't be able to go to the beaches this week.

A llama was spotted while waiting for friends.

The next day, my friends and I went to the home of a restaurant owner for afternoon tea. We met Silvia a couple of weeks ago at her tiny little restaurant. Within an hour of us being there, we received an invitation to visit her at home for tea. Tea turned out to be lunch. We were served cerdo, which I had to decline since I don't eat pork. Being outside of the U.S. or Nepal as essentially a vegetarian is difficult at times since meat is an integral part of many cuisines. I've nearly gagged the times I have tried meat (except for lamb kebabs at my favorite Turkish restaurant?!) so I'm reluctant to try to eat meat here. When Silvia's husband asked me why I didn't eat meat or seafood and I explained that I didn't have the taste for them, he jokingly (I hope) called me mañosa. I didn't know the word for a picky eater before but now I won't forget it.

Walnut cake made by Silvia.
She had three cakes ready to be shipped off to parties. 

Lunch with Silvia's family was super fun. I love sitting down with Chilenos for a few hours to talk about a billion things. I conjugate my verbs incorrectly, make up words in the hopes that the Spanishized versions of the English words really mean something in Spanish, and take a sentence or two to explain a word I don't know in Spanish. But I've managed to have actual conversations about religion, culture, the government, history, the complicated little country that is Nepal, and education with Chilenos. Conversations are easier with one other person or a couple of people I feel really comfortable with, like my family. I can ask them to slow down or repeat. But with others, like Silvia's family, there is a lot of nodding of heads and saying "si, si," but really thinking "ummm, what?!!" If you zone out for even a second or don't know the context of the conversation, good luck understanding what is going on.

The cualiflower wouldn't cook for 30 minutes.
Then it burned.

Even if I think I know what is going on, sometime it turns out I don't. I thought I was cooking dinner for my host family today. But when I was soaking up some sun at 1 pm my host mother asked me why I hadn't started preparing lunch. I didn't have half the ingredients (I thought we were going to the farmer's market together before dinner...?) so I clearly couldn't make anything then. We ran off to the grocery store to buy lunch for the family and ingredients for the Nepali food. I cooked cauli ko tarkari, golbeda ko achar, and bhaath (cauliflower, tomato salsa, and rice) for dinner. It was the worst cauli ko tarkari I've ever made but my sister took three helpings of the dish. My mom asked me to teach her how to make it because it's rare that my mañosa sister loves a new dish. Success!

Oyaswii en Pucón

Apparently my name is Oyaswii, at least according to the homemade card I received at the surprise party my sixth grade class threw for my birthday. The card reads (notice how one Spanish word refused to be translated):

Happy Birthday to miss a good time oyaswii received many gifts, kisses, hugs, and a lot of affection. We all hope you pass the world and know that we esforsamos much to let them, but the intent counts. We hope you liked this letter finds. Thanks for reading.

WHAT?! I love it.

Alfajores with manjar (very similar to dulce de leche).
Yogurt kuchen made by host sister.

For my actual birthday a few days before, my friends came over to my house for once (light meal, or dinner). The raspberry and mosqueta marmalades not only were homemade, but also were made with fruits from the family's land. Talk about eating locally. One of my friends was obsessed with the raspberry one, so my host father offered him a huge jar. So sweet! I was sung "Happy Birthday" in three languages: Spanish and English obviously, and German. Am I living in Germany?! Nope, but there is a lot of German influence in southern Chile, which I will write about another time. After once, the American crew went out to continue the celebration at a bar and a discoteca. Of course the night wasn't complete without hitting up the completos spot (remember that hotdog with 4 spoons of mayo) at around 4 am.

Couldn't predict Sr. Puelche. He's sneaky like that. 

After a week of celebrating and stuffing myself with more pastries than I've ever eaten in a year in the U.S., my friends and I headed to Pucón to ski—on an active volcano! But after renting our ski equipments for the next morning, we found out that Argentina was not planning to let us slide down volcán Villarrica. Puelche, the wind that blows westward into Chile, was making its way to Pucón so the ski resort would most likely be closed for the weekend. We had to be told that the wind was coming from Argentina because Chile and Argentina are rivals and like to blame each other for unavoidable natural disasters and phenomena. When a volcano erupted in Chile in 2011 and the ashes flew in the direction of Argentina, guess what happened. The Argentines blamed Chile, as if the Chileans were hovering over the volcano in a helicopter and fanning the ashes east. Oh, neighborly love.

One of the mountains in Huerquehue National Park.

Thanks to Señor Puelche, the ski resort was indeed closed the next day. We therefore decided to go on a a 15+ kilometer (10 mile) hike. Most of us were still in bed when we found out we had 10 minutes to get ready and catch the bus. I didn´t have a backpack, hadn´t brought pants suitable for hiking, and didn´t pack adequate food. With my jeggings, a purse, and a mandarin, off I went with my friends to Huerquehue National Park in Villarrica. Huerquehue was covered with bamboo trees, but I did not spot even one panda bear! However, we hiked on plenty of snow and saw a few pristine frozen lakes. Winter Wonderland. In August. After the 7-hour excursion in the woods, we relaxed in hot springs by a river that night for a couple of hours. The drive to and back from the hot springs was one of my favorite moments that weekend. Nothing extraordinary happened, but I really appreciated being in a van full of fun people with the stars glistening above us as we drove along a dark road listening to Bob Marley.

Salto El Claro.

The next day, we went on another hike, this time to Salto El Claro. Describing the waterfall wouldn't do it justice; you have to feel its power and take in its beauty yourself. My breath was literally taken away at the base of the waterfall because of the wind created by the water rushing down 300 feet. I felt like I was no longer in Chile but in a rainforest in Costa Rica or Brazil. I had no idea Chile even had this kind of environment, although I should not have been surprised. Because the country is a long stretch of land from the south of Peru to Antarctica, its topography is incredibly diverse. It has the driest desert in the world in the north, Mediterranean-like climate in the central area, plenty of rain and verdancy in the northern parts of the south, and penguins and whatever else your mind conjures up when you think "Patagonia" or "Antarctica" in the south.

I was scared to touch the cow on the hike to Salto El Claro
but I succumbed to peer pressure.

Moments like the one at the base of Salto El Claro are what remind me that I'm living, not just vacationing for a few weeks, in Chile. I get to work with kids, learn Spanish by being immersed in the culture, and travel across this amazing country. When my friends ask me about my plans after Chile, I can't answer because I haven't and don't want to think much about my life beyond January just yet. It's not about pushing away reality, but soaking in the present and this time in South America.

I have a Samsung, too!
Just not Galaxy S III.

Not having a smartphone has helped to do just that. While I may not be as well informed of what's going on and am not as reachable as before, my brain isn't constantly bombarded with information, half of which is probably not necessary or important in the least bit. My mind feels more free, as if it can actually absorb what I am exposed to, like the Spanish I am relearning. I don't check my phone for hours on end because I've stopped fiending for it. I physically feel more free, as if I suddenly gained more hours in the day and more freedom to do what I truly want to do. Sometimes, I even wish I didn't have internet at home. Imagine only being able to check your e-mail or go on Facebook once a day, if that, and only for a few minutes when you do. How about after a day of work, depending only on people's company, books, or reviewing the language you're learning for entertainment? Restrictive—or liberating?

DO IT

Starting off by saying if you are thinking about moving to another country, DO IT. Move to one that doesn't have all of the facilities you are used to, like central heating, washer-dryer, or even running water. At the very least, travel to other countries to eat at tiny, questionable restaurants; stay at hostels where the hot water comes and goes; and let the locals and fellow travelers teach you things you won't find online. 

Enough with the preaching. About my life teaching English in Chile to 5th-12th graders: 

Moo. My friends at the campo.

1. I'm currently living in southern Chile, in northern Patagonia. I live in el campo (aka the country) right outside the little city of Osorno. Today, for my birthday, we're going to a discoteca to dance the night, as well as the dawn, away. People in Chile do not hit the clubs until 1 am and stay out until 6 in the morning. Not sure how much of this aspect of the Chilean culture I can embrace since homegirl here is used to going to bed by 11 pm because...

2. Teaching kids is EXHAUSTING. Oh ma lawd. I'm ready to sleep at 8 pm. I don't know if it's trying to teach English to kids who don't even know what "why?" or "repeat" is or trying to teach kids who think it's okay to act like the classroom is their house and their friends are over for a little get together. The students listen to music (with their headphones so it's polite I guess), randomly change seats, laugh when the inspector (the disciplinarian of the school) attempts to discipline them, and talk back to the teacher. They don't take notes, even when they're told to. They're not disrespectful kids, they just didn't grow up with the same or similar level of discipline as I've seen in the U.S. and Nepal. I teach at a small semi-private school, so I can't even imagine what the teachers in larger or socially vulnerable schools deal with.

3. Chilean food staple: mayo, pastry, bread. And

A pot of cream of chard soup for me.

probably in that order. If you care an ounce about your health, you'd be in shock for a while. One of the fave foods among Chileans? Hot dog with 4 spoons of mayo called completos. Because the food isn't heavy on seasoning, it is a bit bland (where ma garlic at?!). I haven't tasted the meat, so I can't tell you how that is. My host mom is incredibly sweet about me not eating meat, figured out I eat healthy food and don't eat too much pastry (which is incredibly far from the truth in Chile since my first and last bites the other day were of some delightful chocolate pastry. I also had a 6-layer cake and apple pie for my third lunch.). She therefore has been making me awesome vegetarian food. I've been enjoying a lot of cream of chard soup. Sounds (and looks) kind of gross, right? But it tastes like saag paneer—minus the spice. And yesterday I used the thick soup as the sauce for my pasta with parmesan cheese—tasted kind of like pesto sauce. Clearly I am not at all vegan here.

4. Spanish.Wow, I had forgotten most of what I knew. I have no idea what my co-teachers are saying most of the time since they speak really quickly and spit out so many Chilenismos (Chilean slangs that everyone uses). For example, novio is NOT boy friend. Living with a host family has helped me the most in improving my Spanish because I actually have the time to be like, " Wait, what? What is that?" and have things explained to me. Being able to google words at home while talking with the family is also very helpful. And my host sister teaches me Spanish words and tests me like while I do the same with her for English words. Yay language exchange!

El campo.

5. Life is so different from the one I had in NYC and I love Chile for that. I'm freezing most days since there is no central heating. I've had to wear socks (sometimes two on each foot) to sleep every night, and I am so sick and tired of wearing a down jacket in August! My standard of cleanliness has substantially decreased because it's way too cold to take showers often even if I am blessed with hot water. There are many things I can talk about that are inconvenient, making it sound like I am complaining, but I so am grateful to be able to experience all of these challenges. There's something to be said about leaving your comfort zone and seeing the world beyond where you live and what you know. I'm always awed by how people think, act, and function so differently. It's not just a different point of view on a controversial topic, but random little things like the fact that door knobs turn a different direction here. You'd think that humans around the world may innately have all come to the same conclusion about the direction that the door knob should turn, but nope, there are countless nuances in how we think. Love it.

Lesson planning (showing clips from the movie Twister for a lesson on tornadoes to my 6th graders since they're awesome) is in order. Ciao.