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?