Solo in Santiago

I seriously enjoyed my last trip to Chile. Valparasio was one of the loveliest cities I have ever seen and Chilean empanadas are just a big win.  So when my plans to go to Valle de la Luna over the Easter holiday fell through the Wednesday before I decided to do something spontaneous and very stupid. I bought bus tickets to Santiago de Chile for the next afternoon, booked a hostel, and went. By myself. Traveling alone is never very safe and my better judgment would not let me be over just how idiotic crossing international boundaries alone in South America must be. I’m 19. I went anyway. Nothing bad happened and for that I thank God.  Here are the fun highlights:

When I got to the terminal in Mendoza I found out my mini-bus wasn’t running that day. So they gave me a ticket on a real bus that left a half-hour later. This worked out great because I got a whole row to myself, comfy seats, food, and movies, for the 15 passenger van price. On rare occasions the disorganization down here plays to your favor.

Upon arriving in Santiago I bought a map, found a cab, and headed to my hostel. The cabbie hadn’t been driving for 30 seconds when we come upon about 10 men in ski-masks throwing flaming bags of trash into the road and trying to jump in front of my cab. The cabbie made it past them but only just. Welcome to the big city.

On Good Friday I fell in with 2 Canadian sisters and a British girl and we spent the day wandering the city. It was very nice except for the fact that it was raining buckets and no one had an umbrella.  The entire country was closed for the holiday. No museums, no cafes, no shops. Only the Cathedral, the fish market, and thank God the supermarket, were open. Lunch at the fish market was chaos. Once we were seated at an indoor fish restaurant this drunk guy started trying to hit on one of the Canadians. She was trying really hard to get the Spanish and so I translated such ingenious pick-up lines as “I want to be a tear on your cheek sliding down into your mouth” and “Tell her I said, I’m a man and she’s a woman.” Worse, the drunk had his hands on my shoulders and beer-breath in my face as he insistently gave me lines to translate. There was nowhere to go! The other girls said later that the look of disgust on my face was comical. Finally another table flagged down an over-worked waiter to make the drunk go away. Most uncomfortable 5 minutes in recent memory.

Saturday was my only day running around alone. I decided to use the morning to find the English-speaking, affiliated with the PCA, church for Easter service. This turned out to be a wonderful idea since it took me about 2 hours to get there from the hostel (with getting lost). It’s out at the very last stop on the Metro line 1 and the neighborhood isn’t the big city anymore. More upper-middle class suburban. It was like strolling around Chapel Hill except for the very visible Andes. This Metro stop is also home to the most enjoyable artisan market I have yet encountered in the Southern Cone. Real Artisans who sell really cool stuff in a gorgeous rustic/artistic maze of shops, alleys, and gardens. 

I had to rush back to the hostel to go white-water rafting. This was a good $40 decision. The other 4 people were not other young people but a family from Buenos Aires. Once we got to the rafting place a Chilean family joined us. Can you say Spanish practice!?!  It was a nice sunny day and I was very grateful to be there, enjoying what God has made. The Andes are every bit as mysterious as I wanted them to be and during the rafting trip they were faded in and out of either mist or smog but I wasn’t about to ask. It was a easy course and they had a camera man driving ahead in his car to take action shots of the rafters. I paid $5 for those pictures. Good deal!

Easter Sunday: My alarm didn’t go off. I ran out of my hostel dorm at 8:15 and frantically told the desk guy to call me a cab (service at 9:15, 40minute drive). I got dressed and packed in a rush. All the presents I had bought by now wouldn’t fit in my backpack so I had to carry them in a plastic bag. No shower, dressed in the dark, toting plastic bags…I have never felt or looked more like a bum. The cabbie made the same mistakes I did on Saturday getting lost up by the last Metro stop. I finally got the man to listen to me and turn around. I made it into the church at 9:05 and sat my bum-self down in the back. The pastor came to greet me and after “Hello, where are you from?” he asked, “are you moving?” Yep, bum. But a happy bum. It was like two hours of home. And it was Easter so double points.

The service ended with about 2 hours to spare until my bus back to Mendoza. Where better to kill some time than in the super-cool Artisan market? 11am Easter Sunday = almost every shop in the market is open. I’m not sure that Chileans put as much emphasis on Easter as we do despite the chocolate eggs in the grocery. I’m not complaining though. I gladly gave those irreligious shops my business and tip. 

Bikes and Bodegas



I must say my first trip into the Mendoza vineyards was a smashing success. I have already purchased more wine than I can legally bring home (which is none since I am 19) but I only half of what my parents may take back if they come to visit me. And if you guessed that means I have 2  bottles you are right!

The trip to the vineyards (bodegas in Spanish) began early Saturday morning with a delightful ride on the city bus to the next town over Maipu. Pause and enjoy English speakers: Maipu is indeed pronounced as My Poo. And when we six American girls descended from the bus we were immediately meet by a English bike rental salesmen. Did we follow our carefully researched bike rental plan? No, true to form the American consumers responded amazingly to the British accent and we rented from Maipu Bikes instead. All was well with our Bicics though so no harm.

Van Trapp Time

Over the course of 11 Kilometers (no idea what that is in miles) we saw two wineries, two olive orchards, and 1 liquor shop. The pedaling was alternately glorious and taxing. Our first stretch and several more later on were on wide, tree-lined, paved, country lanes with the grapevines stretching into the distance until overtaken but the mysteriously pale Andes. Someone started “Doe, a deer a female deer. Rey, a drop of golden Sun!” and we sang the whole song through for with those mountains did we ever feel like some Van Trapp children learning what fun was for the first time. At other points the road was nothing but dust and water, a man-made dry creek bed, so bumpy it made your teeth chatter and the amount of dirt in the air gave me new sympathy for the Dust Bowl victims of the 1930s.

My favorite stop was probably the very first where we paid USA $3.75 to taste around 30 olive products, jams, dulce de leche, chocolate, and 1 shot each. I did not partake of the shot but those dulces were the best I have ever had and such a varied sampling was just fun. I am bringing home my favorite Dulce de Leche with almonds. Rey Rico, Chicos. Tastings may have to happen at Reading Night next year…after my family gets a go at the jar of course. My favorite vineyard (of two) was Carinae, the smaller, more modern winery. I liked that it was small, exclusive, humble (they weren’t charging out the roof but had a legitimately good product), and just full of light and color. Which is fitting since the place is named for a constellation, as is the wine I bought. We did visit one other vineyard that was old, stately, and excellent. And there I purchased a very nice, very traditional Malbec that will commemorate my time in Mendoza well. I enjoyed that one too, it just didn’t have the same flair as the wine of the “stars”.   

Our Skinny Neighbor



Valparaiso

Argentina has a very slender neighbor called Chile. This is ironic because chili in America is stereotypically served up and consumed by fat middle-aged firemen. And it was in this lovely country that I spent a two-day Argentine Feriado (national holiday). 

With about 20 of the other IFSA kids, I went to Valparaiso and Vina del Mar in Chile, a.k.a. Beach Town, CI. It was Gorgeous! I have decided that I when they start paying teachers like they deserve I will purchase a summer home on one of those hills looking out to the infinite Pacific. And then you turn around and look at the huge mosaic of brightly colored houses and wall murals. Oh, it’s a (slightly more) southern part of heaven.



We stayed at Che Lagarto Hostel with 30 of our closest Aussie and British friends. There were perhaps 5 Argentine too. Needless to say, Spanish was out the window regardless of all previous vows to maintain it. It was a weekend filled with wandering the beautiful streets, the beach (too cold to swim but amazing wandering weather), and getting to know the local grocery store. I say the grocery because when you stay at a hostel being cheap about everything else kind of flows out of it, thus we cooked out own food a lot.





I did have one good seafood lunch though. On the second day touring Valpo we happened upon a lovely restaurant overlooking the harbor. Three stories of white-clothed tables on terraced open-air patios. I had the Reinita, a local white fish, and some perfectly seasoned vegetables. Best seafood I’ve ever had but when your whole country is within 50 miles of the coast you learn to cook these things.



La Sebastiana (great views from the windows)



The one seriously touristy but absolutely mandatory excursion in Valparaiso was to Pablo Neruda’s home, La Sebastiana. For those of you who might not know, Neruda is the most important Chilean (and perhaps Spanish-speaking) poet of the 20^th century. I bought some bilingual additions of his work at the gift shop so we can all get to know Neruda when I get home. The man was a bit eccentric and loved to entertain so the house is interesting for the most causal passerby. I ended up there twice with different people but the second day a live string orchestra decided to hold a free concert in the house so I was lovin’ it.



Iglesia Presbyteriana de Valparaiso



One thing that was great and discouraging at the same time was the number of churches in Chile. There were Protestants of many shapes and sizes and even some very legit Presbyterians. There are almost no Protestants in Argentina and all of them (so far) are very off Bible. It was hard to stand in front of a good church that I could be attending if only Carolina would accept programs in Chile. But a post on church in Argentina is for another day.

Since I was adding a new country to my world map, I had to do some shopping to prove it. I came back with: 2 books, 2 street art prints, 4 post cards, 1 purse, 1 birthday present, 1 llama hat, 1 box of Cocoa powder (they don’t sell this in Argentina), and a pack each of Skittles and M&Ms.

I love Chile. It is my fond hope to return there someday and maybe see Santiago this time. J

Cacti are a pain in the butt



Go Heels!!!



Last weekend the IFSA students went to San Rafael in Mendoza province. You can think of it like a county in the USA. The whole province is naturally very arid and the only reason this is the wine capital of South America is because of the highly efficient irrigation system the Huarpes started before contact and the Spanish expanded later. Anyway when all is said and done it’s just gorgeous.

I love deserts. They have a certain beauty to them that is different from the pretty beach or the majestic mountains. I love the dry heat of a desert in summer and the shades of green you can get at sunset. There’s something about the wilderness of deserts that I really really like.

Water in deserts just might be one of my favorite things. Lakes, rivers, small small streams trickling along a dry old river bed… It seems like a promise; life continuing to advance through the harshest of circumstances. The glory of God manifest in creation. Desert streams make me think of Israel wandering in the wilderness and of the Lord’s provision for them. Throughout Scripture the people of God often go to into the wilderness to met with Him. And deserts like this one are almost exactly my picture of wilderness.

I think this has a lot to do with how much I loved where we were staying. A literal garden in the desert! The cabanas were nice in themselves but the landscape… Rose bushes and ponds, shallow swimming pools and weeping willows, green green grass and leading up to the visas of the desert. Amigos, if you ever find a place like this in the US, Go! It’s not enough to come to Argentina for by itself but if it were easier to get to I would so be back.

San Rafael reminded me of the deserts of Colorado and Utah, less spectacular but lovely and new. Never before have I encountered a truly sandy desert. Most of the hike was just like Colorado, low plants, loose rocks, great big mesas and small mountains. Then after the summit the tour guide said we were going to run back down. Wait, what? A turn in the bend and bam: Sand! The guide took off running and the students ran after. It was steep. It was fast. It was just about the most fun you could have on a desert hike.

All these ramblings about my love for deserts and I’m still calling cacti a pain in the you-know-where? Absolutely chicos! On Saturday several students had the splendid idea to scale of the hills around the cabanas in free time though we had been forbidden to do so. And having nothing better to do I joined in. Going up a very steep slope is pretty easy. You can use your hands to help you and your balance isn’t off. We were up high enough to be seen and get in trouble fairly quickly. Then it was time to go back down. Halfway there I simultaneously lost my balance and the rock I was standing on decided it was time to go vacation in the valley.

It was a lot of commotion but in the end it went like this: I had a fight with a cactus. I sat on it to squash it and I grabbed it to choke it but I still lost to those sharp little spines. The poor boy in front of me had to dodge a falling rock and catch a falling girl at the same time but luckily he managed it so I didn’t tumble down the mountain. All in all I think I pulled 20 spines out of my butt and 30 out of my right hand. It didn’t hurt that bad and I’ve been sore but now I am much improved and I have seen a nurse and I’m fine. Life experience, my friends, life experience!

Chocolate in Argentina and the horrors of kitchen culture shock

One thing I expected to be roughly the same the world over was chocolate. I mean, how could it be that all human beings do not love such dark deliciousness? But alas, no. So far the Argentines I have met do not enjoy chocolate as I do. I first encountered the disturbing difference when I baked brownies for my host sister’s birthday. They do not sell cocoa powder here. I was told to use Nesquick, the very same mix used for hot cocoa. Basically this added half a cup of sugar to my recipe while cutting out more than half the cocoa. My worst fears were realized when I bit into this “brownie” I had created…a moist mound of dark colored sugar. I was fortified and apologized to the family and promised to find the wal-mart and pay any price for Hersey’s. And then the unthinkable happened. They loved it! The first pan of brownies was gone within the day and my host sister had me teach her how to make them. The recipe (translated into Spanish) has even been taped to the frig. My host mom says she likes my brownies because other brownies have too much chocolate flavor. Call it culture shock but I can’t understand why anyone would want a less chocolaty brownie.

Among foods indigenous to Argentina, chocolate seems to come in second to Dulce de Leche (it’s like caramel if you need a reference point). Personally, I am of the opinion that all sweets should be used to compliment chocolate not the other way around. I am having a bit of trouble finding a good chocolate cookie even in the store bought packs. There were some knock off Oreos in the cupboard here but like all knock-off Oreos they were lacking in chocolate flavor and unsatisfactory. There were some vanilla cookies with chocolate cream too. These were reminiscent of those elf cookies in the US only with about 1/4^th of the fudge. Even the pure candy, Bon Bons that are so popular here consist of Dulce de Leche center, Vanilla wafer ball, and a minuscule chocolate shell.  

Oh for a Lenoir Vegan Brownie or a Hersey Bar!

La Vendimina

So the first week in Mendoza just happened to be the week of La Vendimia (wine harvest festival).  This isn’t your average state fair either. Every town elects a Reina (think Miss America) and the elite of the province vote for the Reina Nacional de la Vendimia. There were parades and concerts and an espectaculo that was supposed to run for three nights. Here’s how it went down…

My second night here I went to a concert in the Plaza Independencia (like central park) with my host mom and our neighbors who also have an IFSA kid with them. I love being in parks at night. With those ornate white streetlamps that just make everything deep green and navy, perfecto. It was a happy family atmosphere. One thing I really like about Argentina is that even families with small children tend to go out and about together even if it is late. It produces a lot of babies asleep on daddy’s shoulders but I like that the families spend time together. The fireworks afterwards where spectacular but there must have been a million health and safety violations (US violations…I’m sure everything goes here).  We were so close that it looked like some of the fireworks were going off on the ground in front of us and during the show it started raining ashes and bits of charred paper. In a desert full of trees it’s a miracle that everything didn’t catch fire or maybe it’s just the acequias.

I have an extended host family here. Marcela, the daughter of my host mom, her husband Pablo, and their 3 year old Mia, came with us to the next night’s Festa en Piazza (Italian heritage festival). The pizza here is a bit different. I’m not entirely sure I like it. Think Chicago deep dish bread and strong, thick cheese, some grease, and almost no sauce. Popular toppings include a mountain of onions or green olives. Playing with Mia was fun. What she calls dancing most US kids call flying or spinning. You know, when you pick up a kid by the hands and spin them around so that they’re feet are off the ground. I think I’m going to try to get into some volunteering that involves kids here. I miss working with the kids at my daycare a bit.

The most impressive Vendimia display I saw was the Via Blanca which roughly translates to “white path”.  It’s a parade at night where the floats are so bright they make the street like daytime…in real life it’s not that intense but it was really awesome all the same. All the Reinas have floats and they throw the fruits of their towns to the crowds: grapes, apples, pears, melons (and they’re not so small), bottles of water (Mendoza is also the source of bottled spring water for Argentina) and even a very few bottles of wine. One float, without a Reina, was throwing meat from a giant asado cooking right there on the truck! I myself caught one grape.

In the morning the whole Via Blanca parade repeats and that name changes to Carrusel. My host family and I went to watch it and it was just as impressive. The Gauchos, Argentine cowboys, made an appearance in this parade. There were probably 100 or more horses and even some buggies. Several of the gauchos were riding with little babies in one arm. Looks a lot less tough but it was about the cutest thing ever. The Reinas threw even more fruit and the meat truck was back. Most unexpected were the bagpipes. There are a bunch of welsh immigrants in Argentina but it still threw me off.

The last and most important part of the Vendimia is the Espectaculo. Its 2 hours of dance from folkloric, to something that looked like American show tones to tango.  There are famous musicians and the Reina Nacional is elected. I watched it with my host sister and Nicky, a visiting student from the US, in a café while we ate French fries and drank Fanta. The next night the IFSA group got together to go to watch the repeat of the Espectaculo. At the door they gave us red wine in juice boxes (!!!) and an apple. We sat for three hours of very latino stalling and then the announcers seemed to give up. They turned on party music and told the people to dance. It was raining and about a 1/5 of the people were getting up to leave anyway. You better believe a group of 40 American college students turned those bleachers into a dance floor. Granted many of the locals danced too. The show was obviously supposed to have started and we all attributed it to the rain but some of the crowd was rather grumpy and actually throw their apple cores onto the stage. I couldn’t really believe it at first. Finally the music and the lights were turned off and the IFSA staff told us to go to the buses. Turns out the dancers had decided to go on strike…oh Argentina.

Chao!

Mendoza, first impressions

I’ve now been in Mendoza for about a week. It has been a week of extremely limited internet access and that on my host sister’s computer. Apparently only the brother in the family knows the security code for the internet here and he is off somewhere in the Middle East so it took a while to get a hold of it.

This is my room!

I am living with a host family in the southern part of the city very near the huge, Parque General San Martin and the study abroad program offices. I have a host mother, Carlina, who is a widow and a host sister, Maria Victoria, who just turned 21. They have been hosting international students for eight years straight. Both my host mom and sister are very kind and very patient with my Spanish. They are very helpful in helping me adjust to life here: buying a phone, finding the bus, warning me about dangerous parts of the city (Carlina is a bit paranoid). At the same time, they seem to know the drill a bit too well. My second name is Nicky, after the girl who was here last semester. J



An Acequia in the Park



The city itself is beautiful. Mendoza is in the middle of a very arid area but, through a great feat of engineering in the colonial era, the acequias bring water from the mountains down into the city. All the streets are lined with big shady trees and there are several more parks within the city in addition to the mammoth man-made garden San Martin. Mendoza has more green-space than I have ever seen in a US city and it’s a desert. I can’t get over how awesome that is. The acequias are about 2 feet deep and open air. There are little bridges every couple of yards on the street but one does have to take care with the “gringo traps”. 



Parque General San Martin



The Micros (city buses) are perhaps my least favorite part of Mendoza. If I could get my hands on a bus schedule everything would be dandy but I just can’t seem to get one. I’m did a lot of getting lost this first week which is not my favorite thing but I do at least know my stop on two bus routes. Once classes start I’ll need to improve my relationship with the micros.

Adventures to come soon.

Chao Chicos!