Between the 85-degree heat and a midnight BBQ at Entre Todas, this Christmas was a world (or at least a hemisphere) away from my past Christmas experiences. Here in Chile they celebrate on Christmas Eve with a big dinner and gifts, then Christmas Day, though no one works, seems to be more of a normal day, perhaps with a special dinner. Chris and I, along with a couple of veteran volunteers, Ann and Quique, arrived at Entre Todas late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Quique’s parents and brother had traveled to Chile from Spain for the holidays and came along for the celebration. Quique’s family jumped right in, talking and playing beautifully with the girls. It became obvious how deeply they crave that family energy and atmosphere, so I think having them there made a significant positive impact on the day.
We spent the evening drawing with sidewalk chalk, playing with Frisbees and taking pictures of the girls who all got dolled up for the evening with fancy hair and make-up. They were, for the most part, in great moods, so playing and goofing around was really fun. A few of them had teary moments, but by the time Quique and his parents started firing up the grill, everyone seemed happy. At about 11:45 p.m. we sat down for dinner. After dinner Ann dressed up as Santa and handed out the girls’ gifts. It breaks my heart a little to see them open presents here—there have been a few rounds of presents already throughout the past week—since the gifts are all, for the most part, the same. Once the first girl opens her present, the rest of the girls know basically what they’ll receive. They still open them excitedly, though, and love receiving new clothes and chapstick, etc.
After gift time, the tía on duty told the girls they could stay up until 4:00 a.m., an announcement which was met by huge cheers. Chris, Quique, and Quique’s family made their way out the door at around 1:30 or 2:00, then Ann and I stayed and watched Shrek the Halls in Spanish with the girls and left around 3:00. During our cab ride home we marveled at the day, wondering how it would have gone without us. It seems to me that the single tía on duty simply could not have managed the meal preparations in the kitchen as well as running the grill outside, let alone spending time with the girls. By bringing the chalk and Frisbees and, most importantly, seven(!) extra bodies, we helped the day be more fun than an average day at Entre Todas, and that feels really, really good.
On Christmas morning, Ann, my friend Lindsay and I made a pancake breakfast and watched A Christmas Story. It was the perfect way to spend the morning—it even felt a tiny bit like Christmas! I then went back to Entre Todas for a few hours, although the girls were exhausted so we mostly just watched TV. Chris and I headed straight from Entre Todas to the volunteer house where we held a hilarious Christmas dinner. The plan was to make a vegetarian, gluten-free lasagna, have roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and everyone else would bring sides and desserts. For some reason, everyone thought grocery stores would be open on Christmas Day, but everyone was wrong. Paul, who had been in charge of providing chicken, did not get to the store before Christmas Day and so instead ordered Dominoes pizza for his contribution, which mysteriously came with two quarts of ice cream and four liters of Coke. I had managed to buy the gluten-free lasagna noodles (finding those here in Chile was a Christmas miracle in and of itself) the day before, and Chris and Jessica, the other vegetarians, bought sauce and veggies, but no one bought cheese. Lindsay had purchased ten pounds of potatoes but no cream or milk to mash them with. Needless to say, we were all a little concerned about feeding the twelve to fifteen people we had promised to feed. By the grace of someone or something, however, we managed to find a tiny little market open and bought cheese for the lasagna and milk for the potatoes.
Though she had never mashed potatoes before, Lindsay’s potatoes were beyond delicious. And the lasagna, which I was convinced would be a disaster, ended up being not only the world’s first round lasagna, but also amazingly delicious. While assembling the lasagna, we couldn’t find the rectangular pan but found a sufficiently deep round one, so set about trimming noodles to fit and made a beautiful creation. When we opened the oven to light it, however, there sat the rectangular pan. Ah, Chile. Everyone else who came brought chips and ice cream because gas stations were the only stores open by the time they headed to the house. There was certainly nothing traditional about the meal but we were well fed and well amused. After dinner we held a lively Yankee swap, then gave in to our food comas. It really was a lovely day.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Multiple Victories
Despite having unidentified Chilean floor-cleaner splashed all over my body by the six-year-old at Entre Todas, today was amazing. First of all, I made killer gluten-free pancakes from scratch this morning, so the day was bound to go well. Secondly, when I first arrived at Entre Todas, I sat with one of the girls who has seemed extremely depressed lately and tried to engage her in conversation. She’s fifteen and normally a quiet girl but lately has been more withdrawn than usual and I’ve noticed spots on her wrists where it appears she cuts herself. At first she just answered my questions with one-word answers and I could have left it at that, but I kept going, wondering which question would be the one that would make her tell me to shut up. But all of a sudden I think she realized I actually cared about what we were talking about and she smiled and started speaking in full sentences. A minor victory!
We had a special Christmas lunch, then the girls who would be leaving for the holidays packed up their bags and said goodbye. Chris and I were sitting on one of the couches on the patio around this time when the newest girl wandered over. She’s a sweetheart, probably about fourteen. She was carrying a stuffed animal and looked a little teary, so I asked her if she was feeling sad. She nodded so I lifted my arm and invited her to sit between Chris and I. She collapsed into my arms and started sobbing, burying her face in my neck and squeezing me with intense desperation. For a long time we just sat there, not saying anything, me stroking her hair while she cried. I was struck by this incredible feeling of doing the most important thing I could possibly be doing. This is the first time this girl will spend Christmas away from her family and no one around her is acknowledging how hard that is. The girls normally have walls up and never allow anyone to see them in moments of weakness, so I felt absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude that this girl could come to me in her vulnerable state. I also felt smacked in the face by the reality of her situation. I’ve said over and over that I’m glad to be spending Christmas with the girls who can’t go home to their families but it hadn’t actually hit me until I found myself as the sole provider of support for a crying child. I can’t stress enough how happy I was to be that person in that moment.
To close the day, Chris and I took one of the girls for a walk around the neighborhood and to a nearby playground. She was the girl I took to the psychologist my first week but on this walk she acted much more comfortable and relaxed. We shared lively banter and conversation—for an eleven-year-old she has a great sense of humor. We even ended up having a sing-a-long to one of the songs the girls all love. The song is called “Niño de tus ojos,” meaning “Child of Your Eyes,” (they sing some seriously religious songs) but the girls love changing the lyrics to “Niño de tus piojos,” which means “Child of Your Lice.” The three of us laughed and laughed as we walked and sang this song and I felt absolutely content.
We had a special Christmas lunch, then the girls who would be leaving for the holidays packed up their bags and said goodbye. Chris and I were sitting on one of the couches on the patio around this time when the newest girl wandered over. She’s a sweetheart, probably about fourteen. She was carrying a stuffed animal and looked a little teary, so I asked her if she was feeling sad. She nodded so I lifted my arm and invited her to sit between Chris and I. She collapsed into my arms and started sobbing, burying her face in my neck and squeezing me with intense desperation. For a long time we just sat there, not saying anything, me stroking her hair while she cried. I was struck by this incredible feeling of doing the most important thing I could possibly be doing. This is the first time this girl will spend Christmas away from her family and no one around her is acknowledging how hard that is. The girls normally have walls up and never allow anyone to see them in moments of weakness, so I felt absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude that this girl could come to me in her vulnerable state. I also felt smacked in the face by the reality of her situation. I’ve said over and over that I’m glad to be spending Christmas with the girls who can’t go home to their families but it hadn’t actually hit me until I found myself as the sole provider of support for a crying child. I can’t stress enough how happy I was to be that person in that moment.
To close the day, Chris and I took one of the girls for a walk around the neighborhood and to a nearby playground. She was the girl I took to the psychologist my first week but on this walk she acted much more comfortable and relaxed. We shared lively banter and conversation—for an eleven-year-old she has a great sense of humor. We even ended up having a sing-a-long to one of the songs the girls all love. The song is called “Niño de tus ojos,” meaning “Child of Your Eyes,” (they sing some seriously religious songs) but the girls love changing the lyrics to “Niño de tus piojos,” which means “Child of Your Lice.” The three of us laughed and laughed as we walked and sang this song and I felt absolutely content.
Fallen angels/All in a day's work
Yesterday morning my friend Lindsay and I returned to the Vega, Santiago’s huge meat and produce market, much to the delight of the men lounging amid the avocado pallets. Though I was sporting my usual grubby jeans and tank top, Lindsay looked pulled together as ever in a breezy dress and between the two of us we received the typical barrage of catcalls. My favorite came from a man sitting in front of large bins of pet food who said, “The angels are falling.” It just warms the heart right up, doesn’t it? Yeah.
Later on, at Entre Todas, my sunburn was the hit of the day. I loved flashing it and watching the girls cringe. “Tííííaaaa!” they squealed. One girl told me I looked like someone had painted me. She then lectured me on the importance of buying a high quality sunscreen.
The day felt like a success as one of the girls who I’d never had a conversation with called me into one of the dormitories, offered to share her candy, and told me about the Christmas party she’d just gone to at her psychologist’s office. We hung out and chatted for probably a half hour, sometimes with other girls and sometimes just us. It felt like a huge step to be invited into their private space, and felt great to just plop down on the floor and chill out with her. Later in the day, the girls began an impromptu water balloon fight on the patio. It was great to see them be more relaxed as they’ve finished their exams and are out of school for the summer. It was also great to see them running around and screaming rather than sleeping on the floor of the TV room in the middle of the day. Eventually the girls resorted to dumping buckets of water on each other, which was also great to watch. Chris and I were in no way dry when we left work.
And finally, because no day at Entre Todas passes without at least a minor storm, Chris and I had a rough moment with the six-year-old. Her moods change with no clear reason and with no warning, so she took us by surprise when she followed us out to a quieter portion of the front patio (the water-balloon-free zone) and began throwing small rocks at us. She refused to listen, screaming that we aren’t her parents, throwing rocks harder at the wall and into the yard next door. At one point she even threw a rock out the front gate at a stranger walking by. It's difficult to know how to handles these situations. When we use firm voices with her she shakes her head and hits and kicks us. There seems to be no way to discipline her except to walk away, telling her we don’t want to be around that type of behavior. She prevented us from doing this yesterday, however, by closing both doors that lead inside from the front patio--both must be opened from the inside so we were trapped outside with her. It pains me to see her behave this way; clearly her short past contains serious trauma. It’s also brutal to see her in this home with no one her age to play with and only the influence of teenage girls. At the end of this rock-throwing incident, one of the older girls calmed her down by sharing her headphones. The six-year-old danced a bit alongside the older girl, then began kissing the wall next to her, fluttering her eyelids and twirling her tongue around. Apparently the social worker at Entre Todas is searching for a more appropriate home for her, which in my opinion couldn’t happen soon enough.
I’m looking forward to today as we’re having a special evening snack for Christmas—some of the girls will be heading home to their families tomorrow so this will be the time for all the girls to celebrate together. Hopefully it will be a smooth and happy day.
Later on, at Entre Todas, my sunburn was the hit of the day. I loved flashing it and watching the girls cringe. “Tííííaaaa!” they squealed. One girl told me I looked like someone had painted me. She then lectured me on the importance of buying a high quality sunscreen.
The day felt like a success as one of the girls who I’d never had a conversation with called me into one of the dormitories, offered to share her candy, and told me about the Christmas party she’d just gone to at her psychologist’s office. We hung out and chatted for probably a half hour, sometimes with other girls and sometimes just us. It felt like a huge step to be invited into their private space, and felt great to just plop down on the floor and chill out with her. Later in the day, the girls began an impromptu water balloon fight on the patio. It was great to see them be more relaxed as they’ve finished their exams and are out of school for the summer. It was also great to see them running around and screaming rather than sleeping on the floor of the TV room in the middle of the day. Eventually the girls resorted to dumping buckets of water on each other, which was also great to watch. Chris and I were in no way dry when we left work.
And finally, because no day at Entre Todas passes without at least a minor storm, Chris and I had a rough moment with the six-year-old. Her moods change with no clear reason and with no warning, so she took us by surprise when she followed us out to a quieter portion of the front patio (the water-balloon-free zone) and began throwing small rocks at us. She refused to listen, screaming that we aren’t her parents, throwing rocks harder at the wall and into the yard next door. At one point she even threw a rock out the front gate at a stranger walking by. It's difficult to know how to handles these situations. When we use firm voices with her she shakes her head and hits and kicks us. There seems to be no way to discipline her except to walk away, telling her we don’t want to be around that type of behavior. She prevented us from doing this yesterday, however, by closing both doors that lead inside from the front patio--both must be opened from the inside so we were trapped outside with her. It pains me to see her behave this way; clearly her short past contains serious trauma. It’s also brutal to see her in this home with no one her age to play with and only the influence of teenage girls. At the end of this rock-throwing incident, one of the older girls calmed her down by sharing her headphones. The six-year-old danced a bit alongside the older girl, then began kissing the wall next to her, fluttering her eyelids and twirling her tongue around. Apparently the social worker at Entre Todas is searching for a more appropriate home for her, which in my opinion couldn’t happen soon enough.
I’m looking forward to today as we’re having a special evening snack for Christmas—some of the girls will be heading home to their families tomorrow so this will be the time for all the girls to celebrate together. Hopefully it will be a smooth and happy day.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Aloe, please?
I’ll begin by saying that I am, at this moment, possibly more sunburned than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Bending my legs and sitting down are simply out of the question. But these are small prices to pay for the weekend I just had! Five other volunteers and I traveled to Zapallar, a small beach town north of Viña del Mar, the most popular coastal destination in Central Chile. Friends warned us that Viña was overcrowded and dirty and recommended Zapallar, a much quieter and pristine town. We heeded their advice and found an oasis that seems practically undiscovered by mainstream tourists. Here’s the scene that greeted us:
Also per a recommendation from our friends, we spoke with a woman who owns the supermarket in town about renting the apartment above the store for the night. Because Zapallar is a fairly exclusive town complete with well-dressed, towheaded Chilean children, budget accommodations are non-existent, so for about $10 each, we were thrilled with the place. The apartment included a full bathroom (though they forgot to turn on the hot water heater for us until after we winced through cold showers), a semi-equipped kitchen, and enough bed space for the six of us.
We stayed on the beach until well after 8:00 last night and spent the majority of today there as well. We also took advantage of a beautiful walking path that wraps around the harbor and marveled at the mansions built into the sides of the steep hills along the water. Most of our time, however, was spent on our towels or in the [freezing!] water. Relaxing with our books, eating ice cream and listening to the sound of enormous waves crashing on the gold-flecked sand was the perfect reward for our first two intense weeks of work with VE.
Here we are after climbing a huge rock structure near the end of the walking path, and here are the rest of the pictures from the weekend:
And speaking of VE, I have a bit of exciting news! Last Thursday I had a brief meeting with Brooke, VE’s executive director, who told me that he and Daniel, the volunteer relations director, want to give me more responsibility within the organization, specifically within volunteer relations. First of all, it feels amazing to be recognized as having potential within an organization I feel so excited about, and secondly, the idea of working in volunteer relations feels really right. I’ll be learning the process of recruiting and accepting new volunteers as well as the process of orientating and supporting accepted volunteers. Excitement! I feel like something within my universe is aligning, telling me I’m doing something right. We’ll see how it goes!
Finally, my work with the girls at Entre Todas continues to challenge me. I feel impatient to develop a rapport with them but I know it will take time. On Tuesday I continued the sewing project by myself as the veteran volunteer for Entre Todas had headed back to the States for the holidays. I found myself sitting with seven girls (a record, for sure!), all stitching away at little felt snowmen. At first I felt great—without the veteran volunteer there for me to lean on, I was forced to use my Spanish and felt better about it than I had for days. However, as the girls grew increasingly excited about finishing the snowmen and therefore increasingly impatient, they each began pestering me for help, each wanting me to tie a knot or start a snowman eyeball or cut a different color hat. I began to panic slightly as they seemed to lack understanding about a human’s inability to do multiple things at once. The girl who on my first day showed me her poetry told me she didn’t like me, that I was annoying because I didn’t understand her. It began to feel that they were all talking about me and laughing and my brain was too fried to figure out what they were saying. The situation culminated with one of the girls stealing the snowman I had made. I don’t know who it was, but that small action made me feel like a huge outsider. The day was a bit brutal and I left the house feeling terrible, not knowing how I would ever grow skin thick enough to deal with the girls. The next day, of course, felt completely different as a group of volunteers from a local university came to throw a birthday party for all the girls born in November and December and actually managed to engage them in an hours-long sing-a-long with their guitar. Even the too-cool-for-school girls participated, showing their dramatic flair and well-honed senses of humor. It was amazing to see that side of those girls, to actually share belly laughs with them. If only every day garnered such participation. Sigh. It will get easier with time.
For now I’m still high on my gorgeous weekend, prickly red tooshie aside. Hopefully this coming week, the week of Christmas, will be a positive one for the girls. I’m spending both Christmas Eve day and Christmas day at Entre Todas, so likely I’ll have interesting tales to report! Though it feels nothing at all like Christmas here in the 80 degree weather, I hope you all are enjoying these days of anticipation!
Also per a recommendation from our friends, we spoke with a woman who owns the supermarket in town about renting the apartment above the store for the night. Because Zapallar is a fairly exclusive town complete with well-dressed, towheaded Chilean children, budget accommodations are non-existent, so for about $10 each, we were thrilled with the place. The apartment included a full bathroom (though they forgot to turn on the hot water heater for us until after we winced through cold showers), a semi-equipped kitchen, and enough bed space for the six of us.
We stayed on the beach until well after 8:00 last night and spent the majority of today there as well. We also took advantage of a beautiful walking path that wraps around the harbor and marveled at the mansions built into the sides of the steep hills along the water. Most of our time, however, was spent on our towels or in the [freezing!] water. Relaxing with our books, eating ice cream and listening to the sound of enormous waves crashing on the gold-flecked sand was the perfect reward for our first two intense weeks of work with VE.
Here we are after climbing a huge rock structure near the end of the walking path, and here are the rest of the pictures from the weekend:
And speaking of VE, I have a bit of exciting news! Last Thursday I had a brief meeting with Brooke, VE’s executive director, who told me that he and Daniel, the volunteer relations director, want to give me more responsibility within the organization, specifically within volunteer relations. First of all, it feels amazing to be recognized as having potential within an organization I feel so excited about, and secondly, the idea of working in volunteer relations feels really right. I’ll be learning the process of recruiting and accepting new volunteers as well as the process of orientating and supporting accepted volunteers. Excitement! I feel like something within my universe is aligning, telling me I’m doing something right. We’ll see how it goes!
Finally, my work with the girls at Entre Todas continues to challenge me. I feel impatient to develop a rapport with them but I know it will take time. On Tuesday I continued the sewing project by myself as the veteran volunteer for Entre Todas had headed back to the States for the holidays. I found myself sitting with seven girls (a record, for sure!), all stitching away at little felt snowmen. At first I felt great—without the veteran volunteer there for me to lean on, I was forced to use my Spanish and felt better about it than I had for days. However, as the girls grew increasingly excited about finishing the snowmen and therefore increasingly impatient, they each began pestering me for help, each wanting me to tie a knot or start a snowman eyeball or cut a different color hat. I began to panic slightly as they seemed to lack understanding about a human’s inability to do multiple things at once. The girl who on my first day showed me her poetry told me she didn’t like me, that I was annoying because I didn’t understand her. It began to feel that they were all talking about me and laughing and my brain was too fried to figure out what they were saying. The situation culminated with one of the girls stealing the snowman I had made. I don’t know who it was, but that small action made me feel like a huge outsider. The day was a bit brutal and I left the house feeling terrible, not knowing how I would ever grow skin thick enough to deal with the girls. The next day, of course, felt completely different as a group of volunteers from a local university came to throw a birthday party for all the girls born in November and December and actually managed to engage them in an hours-long sing-a-long with their guitar. Even the too-cool-for-school girls participated, showing their dramatic flair and well-honed senses of humor. It was amazing to see that side of those girls, to actually share belly laughs with them. If only every day garnered such participation. Sigh. It will get easier with time.
For now I’m still high on my gorgeous weekend, prickly red tooshie aside. Hopefully this coming week, the week of Christmas, will be a positive one for the girls. I’m spending both Christmas Eve day and Christmas day at Entre Todas, so likely I’ll have interesting tales to report! Though it feels nothing at all like Christmas here in the 80 degree weather, I hope you all are enjoying these days of anticipation!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Produce Joy
Welcome to fruit season in Chile! For the second week in a row, my roommate and I walked the three or so blocks to the feria, or fair/market, that comes to our neighborhood on Sundays. Little produce stands line the sidewalks for a few blocks selling outrageous produce at ridiculously low prices. I'm so baffled by this and so excited about the strawberries I'm eating right now, I just had to tell you about it.
Here's what I bought today:
1/2 kilo (about 1.1 pounds) cherries
1 kilo (about 2.2 pounds) strawberries
1 huge zucchini
7 bananas
2 red peppers
3 hass avocados
4 tomatoes
All for the grand total of 2400 pesos, or, drum roll please, $3.96. Gah. I love Chile.
And for you visual learners out there:
Victory.
Here's what I bought today:
1/2 kilo (about 1.1 pounds) cherries
1 kilo (about 2.2 pounds) strawberries
1 huge zucchini
7 bananas
2 red peppers
3 hass avocados
4 tomatoes
All for the grand total of 2400 pesos, or, drum roll please, $3.96. Gah. I love Chile.
And for you visual learners out there:
Victory.
Stuffed Penguins and Jackhammers
A fascinating first week at Entre Todas! Wednesday began with a bit of drama as one of the girls’ mothers came to talk to the social worker because her daughter had run away the night before. As I forgot to mention in my last post, not one but four girls ran away on Tuesday. At the evening snack time the tías (staff) asked the girls if any of them knew where the missing girls were but ten girls yelling quickly in Spanish was too much for me to understand. The veteran volunteer at Entre Todas told Chris and I, the newbies, that this happens all the time and that the tías don’t really do anything about it because it’s so common. Apparently the girls usually go home to their families when they run away but since they’re all legally in the custody of Entre Todas, there are only specific times when they’re supposed to go home; some of the girls, though, are never allowed to go home because of whatever dangerous situation waits for them there. However, the girl whose mother came to talk to the social worker never went home on Tuesday, so God only knows where she spent the night. Egad.
After lunch on Wednesday I had the opportunity to take one of the eleven-year-olds to an appointment with her psychologist. The tías told me she knew her way, which she absolutely did. She led me to the Metro, told me when to get off, then led me on a fairly long walk to the psychologist’s office. I asked her lots of questions about herself on the way, which she answered fully and politely, but she never really engaged in conversation. It seems to be her personality to be so quiet, though. During her appointment the receptionist put Ice Age in English on the TV for me, though I was too fascinated by my surroundings to pay much attention. There were signs in the office noting its affiliation with SENAME (Servicio Nacional de Menores, or National Service for Minors), a program developed after Chile signed the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (interesting tidbit: Somalia and the United States are the only countries who haven’t ratified the convention). I won’t bore you with more details on this, I just find it interesting to see how Chile actually attempts to follow through on programs that protect children’s rights. On our way out of the psychologist’s office, he helped the girl pick a lemon from the tree in the front yard, which she proceeded to eat without a grimace on our walk back. We must have made a ridiculous pair walking down the street, a stylish Chilean girl with a long, gorgeous ponytail and me, an awkward gringa approximately twice her height. She’s like, so much cooler than me, it’s not even fair.
On Thursday we made Christmas cards with about four of the girls. As I’ve come to realize, our only real project time is between lunch and the evening snack, and a lot of the girls follow specific telenovelas that air during that time, so they don’t seem to consider participating in our activities. On Friday, though, we made stuffed felt penguins—the veteran volunteer at Entre Todas had brought all the materials for these little stuffed Christmas ornaments—and the day felt like the most successful of the week. Although we only had four girls with us, again, the girls were really engaged and did an amazing job sewing the little critters. We only had dull, fat needles because it would be dangerous to give them real needles, so it was a challenge to push the needle through the felt, but the girls did it, two of them completely the entire complicated project that day. Of course the day was not without the usual challenges. There’s a girl at Entre Todas who’s been dubbed the house piercer, and whenever she can get her hands on a needle or pin, someone’s nose ends up pierced soon after. She managed to sneak into the pins and steal one and run away with it, laughing and screaming, not listening to us at all when we asked her to give it back. She then told us she “dropped it” and “couldn’t find it,” but we know what that means. The day also ended with a physical fight between the six-year-old and the eighteen-year-old who they describe as “Special Ed.” The six-year-old clearly started the physical aspect of their disagreement, as she quickly resorts to violence when she doesn’t get her way. The eighteen-year-old began to fight back a little and then it erupted, to the point that one of tías came out to the patio to put an end to it. Interestingly enough, her lecture was to the older girl about how the younger girl was just a little girl who didn’t know better. It’s frustrating to see how they treat the older girl, but I can’t change their system, so for now I’ll just focus on learning what I can do to help her feel treated fairly by at least the volunteers.
Yesterday all the VE volunteers came to Entre Todas for a repair day. VE holds a repair day at one of the institutions at the beginning of every three months. I was thrilled ours was at Entre Todas so I got to see the girls in a bit of different setting. We painted the walls of the patio white so the girls can paint a mural there, put up a mesh shade across one side “yard” which is really just a cement area, put up a new wall in the laundry room, weeded a small garden in the other side “yard” and used jackhammers to remove most of the cement from that side yard so that grass can be planted there. It was a really fun day and we worked really hard. The male volunteers (they refer to themselves as “Team Man”) and one brave chica absolutely rocked the jackhammers. Some of the Entre Todas girls even helped scraping and painting the patio. And, because you never know what’s going to happen at Entre Todas, the girl who showed me the poetry she’d written on Tuesday told me that she didn’t like me, and a girl who’s never given me the time of day showed me how if you pull out a certain part of one of the plants in the garden, there’s a little bit of honey-flavored juice that you can drip onto your tongue. This is how it goes.
We celebrated last night with a disco-themed party at the VE Volunteer house out in the suburbs. I absolutely love this group of people! They’ve really got the whole work hard, play hard thing down. Also, on Wednesday night my housemate and fellow volunteer spent a few hours chatting and she’s just fantastic. We are absolutely kindred spirits. It will be a huge bummer when she leaves at the end of January, but for now, yay!
After lunch on Wednesday I had the opportunity to take one of the eleven-year-olds to an appointment with her psychologist. The tías told me she knew her way, which she absolutely did. She led me to the Metro, told me when to get off, then led me on a fairly long walk to the psychologist’s office. I asked her lots of questions about herself on the way, which she answered fully and politely, but she never really engaged in conversation. It seems to be her personality to be so quiet, though. During her appointment the receptionist put Ice Age in English on the TV for me, though I was too fascinated by my surroundings to pay much attention. There were signs in the office noting its affiliation with SENAME (Servicio Nacional de Menores, or National Service for Minors), a program developed after Chile signed the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (interesting tidbit: Somalia and the United States are the only countries who haven’t ratified the convention). I won’t bore you with more details on this, I just find it interesting to see how Chile actually attempts to follow through on programs that protect children’s rights. On our way out of the psychologist’s office, he helped the girl pick a lemon from the tree in the front yard, which she proceeded to eat without a grimace on our walk back. We must have made a ridiculous pair walking down the street, a stylish Chilean girl with a long, gorgeous ponytail and me, an awkward gringa approximately twice her height. She’s like, so much cooler than me, it’s not even fair.
On Thursday we made Christmas cards with about four of the girls. As I’ve come to realize, our only real project time is between lunch and the evening snack, and a lot of the girls follow specific telenovelas that air during that time, so they don’t seem to consider participating in our activities. On Friday, though, we made stuffed felt penguins—the veteran volunteer at Entre Todas had brought all the materials for these little stuffed Christmas ornaments—and the day felt like the most successful of the week. Although we only had four girls with us, again, the girls were really engaged and did an amazing job sewing the little critters. We only had dull, fat needles because it would be dangerous to give them real needles, so it was a challenge to push the needle through the felt, but the girls did it, two of them completely the entire complicated project that day. Of course the day was not without the usual challenges. There’s a girl at Entre Todas who’s been dubbed the house piercer, and whenever she can get her hands on a needle or pin, someone’s nose ends up pierced soon after. She managed to sneak into the pins and steal one and run away with it, laughing and screaming, not listening to us at all when we asked her to give it back. She then told us she “dropped it” and “couldn’t find it,” but we know what that means. The day also ended with a physical fight between the six-year-old and the eighteen-year-old who they describe as “Special Ed.” The six-year-old clearly started the physical aspect of their disagreement, as she quickly resorts to violence when she doesn’t get her way. The eighteen-year-old began to fight back a little and then it erupted, to the point that one of tías came out to the patio to put an end to it. Interestingly enough, her lecture was to the older girl about how the younger girl was just a little girl who didn’t know better. It’s frustrating to see how they treat the older girl, but I can’t change their system, so for now I’ll just focus on learning what I can do to help her feel treated fairly by at least the volunteers.
Yesterday all the VE volunteers came to Entre Todas for a repair day. VE holds a repair day at one of the institutions at the beginning of every three months. I was thrilled ours was at Entre Todas so I got to see the girls in a bit of different setting. We painted the walls of the patio white so the girls can paint a mural there, put up a mesh shade across one side “yard” which is really just a cement area, put up a new wall in the laundry room, weeded a small garden in the other side “yard” and used jackhammers to remove most of the cement from that side yard so that grass can be planted there. It was a really fun day and we worked really hard. The male volunteers (they refer to themselves as “Team Man”) and one brave chica absolutely rocked the jackhammers. Some of the Entre Todas girls even helped scraping and painting the patio. And, because you never know what’s going to happen at Entre Todas, the girl who showed me the poetry she’d written on Tuesday told me that she didn’t like me, and a girl who’s never given me the time of day showed me how if you pull out a certain part of one of the plants in the garden, there’s a little bit of honey-flavored juice that you can drip onto your tongue. This is how it goes.
We celebrated last night with a disco-themed party at the VE Volunteer house out in the suburbs. I absolutely love this group of people! They’ve really got the whole work hard, play hard thing down. Also, on Wednesday night my housemate and fellow volunteer spent a few hours chatting and she’s just fantastic. We are absolutely kindred spirits. It will be a huge bummer when she leaves at the end of January, but for now, yay!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Entre Todas: Day 1
My housemate describes Entre Todas as both the most difficult and the most rewarding institution in the network of VE institutions. I’m sure she’ll be right about the work being rewarding, and I see right away how difficult it will be. We visited Entre Todas briefly last week with the veteran volunteer who works there and were able to get a sense of the place, but yesterday we spent our first full day there. It’s clear that the first major obstacle will be to get to know the girls and gain their trust. Besides going to school and eating meals at certain times, the girls’ days are utterly unstructured. They’re not required to participate in any activities we set up and since Entre Todas is their home, not a school or community center where participation is the point of going, if the girls want to sit and watch soap operas, they can and do.
Thanks to a recent VE repair day, the walls at Entre Todas are cheery bright yellows, greens and oranges. Apparently the girls used to write and draw on the walls, but the newly painted areas seem, for the most part, clear of such graffiti. The offices of the director and a social worker line the front hallway, which leads to the kitchen and the rest of the house. The kitchen is incredibly old fashioned and usually off-limits to us. Beyond the kitchen is an open area where a Christmas tree currently sits, and the comedor, or cafeteria, where the girls eat their meals, do homework, and where we do crafts and other activities between meals. The rest of the building wraps around a patio where the girls hang out a lot, dancing to their favorite reggaeton songs and checking each other for lice (they consider this a fun activity). Around the patio are their dormitories, each room housing four to six girls. In the very back of the building is the TV room and the computer lab, the latter being open only at specific times.
When we arrived (and when we left), we did a round of left-cheek-kisses, which will be the routine every day. Every girl, every tía (staff member), every day, twice a day. Some of the girls return the greeting sweetly, while others, especially those watching TV, don’t move their eyes or say anything at all. This is fairly representative of the girls’ attitudes—some show interest in Chris, the other new volunteer at Entre Todas, and me, while others act as though we’re the last people they’d want to associate with. Some of the girls display their anger readily, while others seem like average cheery teenage girls until they start cheerily punching each other at full strength. And finally, a few of the girls are so sweet, it’s hard to remember that they’re in the home for a reason.
The girls are between the ages of eleven and twenty with the exception of one six-year-old. They took her because they theoretically take girls ages six to eighteen, but it really makes no sense. She flits around the older girls, lets them smack her around, then lashes out by swearing, biting, and flailing her arms until she hits someone. She’s adorable, however, and always shows her sweet side first. She spends a lot of time with us, along with another girl who is eighteen and has been described to us as “Special Ed.” She’s an incredibly interesting person who clearly wants to learn but isn’t allowed, for some reason, to go to school. Yesterday the subject of the female president of Chile came up and she stated that she doesn’t like the president because she continues to keep abortion illegal. She then asked if abortion was legal in the States or in England (Chris is from Manchester). Sometimes what she says doesn’t make sense and then she hits you with something like this. Whoa.
During the “study” hour in the early evening, I sat with a seventeen-year-old as she made a heart-shaped love note for her boyfriend that said “Carlos, I love you with all my heart.” I showed her how to make bubble letters and hesitantly asked her about the boy. She told me they’ve been together for nine months, then brought out a notebook and let me read some poems she had written for him the day before. They were incredible. I was absolutely blown away and honored that she let me read them. I left the house feeling overwhelmed but great that already a girl had shared a little piece of herself with me.
Thanks to a recent VE repair day, the walls at Entre Todas are cheery bright yellows, greens and oranges. Apparently the girls used to write and draw on the walls, but the newly painted areas seem, for the most part, clear of such graffiti. The offices of the director and a social worker line the front hallway, which leads to the kitchen and the rest of the house. The kitchen is incredibly old fashioned and usually off-limits to us. Beyond the kitchen is an open area where a Christmas tree currently sits, and the comedor, or cafeteria, where the girls eat their meals, do homework, and where we do crafts and other activities between meals. The rest of the building wraps around a patio where the girls hang out a lot, dancing to their favorite reggaeton songs and checking each other for lice (they consider this a fun activity). Around the patio are their dormitories, each room housing four to six girls. In the very back of the building is the TV room and the computer lab, the latter being open only at specific times.
When we arrived (and when we left), we did a round of left-cheek-kisses, which will be the routine every day. Every girl, every tía (staff member), every day, twice a day. Some of the girls return the greeting sweetly, while others, especially those watching TV, don’t move their eyes or say anything at all. This is fairly representative of the girls’ attitudes—some show interest in Chris, the other new volunteer at Entre Todas, and me, while others act as though we’re the last people they’d want to associate with. Some of the girls display their anger readily, while others seem like average cheery teenage girls until they start cheerily punching each other at full strength. And finally, a few of the girls are so sweet, it’s hard to remember that they’re in the home for a reason.
The girls are between the ages of eleven and twenty with the exception of one six-year-old. They took her because they theoretically take girls ages six to eighteen, but it really makes no sense. She flits around the older girls, lets them smack her around, then lashes out by swearing, biting, and flailing her arms until she hits someone. She’s adorable, however, and always shows her sweet side first. She spends a lot of time with us, along with another girl who is eighteen and has been described to us as “Special Ed.” She’s an incredibly interesting person who clearly wants to learn but isn’t allowed, for some reason, to go to school. Yesterday the subject of the female president of Chile came up and she stated that she doesn’t like the president because she continues to keep abortion illegal. She then asked if abortion was legal in the States or in England (Chris is from Manchester). Sometimes what she says doesn’t make sense and then she hits you with something like this. Whoa.
During the “study” hour in the early evening, I sat with a seventeen-year-old as she made a heart-shaped love note for her boyfriend that said “Carlos, I love you with all my heart.” I showed her how to make bubble letters and hesitantly asked her about the boy. She told me they’ve been together for nine months, then brought out a notebook and let me read some poems she had written for him the day before. They were incredible. I was absolutely blown away and honored that she let me read them. I left the house feeling overwhelmed but great that already a girl had shared a little piece of herself with me.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Minor hilarity/The potential for bread
After cooking my first meal and washing the dishes in my apartment, I had to laugh as I realized I was seriously slouching to reach the sink. The counters are probably ten inches lower than anything you’d find in the States, so for this tall gringa, it’s going to take some getting used to.
In other news, we made our way to a Jumbo today, which can only be described as a Chilean Super Walmart. To my delight, I found a gluten-free bread mix, gluten-free all purpose flour, rice flour, and gluten-free muesli! The bread is currently in the oven and my fingers are crossed as there's no way to tell what temperature the oven is set for. As with the burners on the stove and the hot water heater, we have to use matches to light the oven. It's terrifying as the flames come flying up toward your hand and make a huge whooshing noise, but surely I'll get used to it. So yes, I have absolutely no idea what temperature the oven is cranking away at but I smell bread, so something good is happening.
In other news, we made our way to a Jumbo today, which can only be described as a Chilean Super Walmart. To my delight, I found a gluten-free bread mix, gluten-free all purpose flour, rice flour, and gluten-free muesli! The bread is currently in the oven and my fingers are crossed as there's no way to tell what temperature the oven is set for. As with the burners on the stove and the hot water heater, we have to use matches to light the oven. It's terrifying as the flames come flying up toward your hand and make a huge whooshing noise, but surely I'll get used to it. So yes, I have absolutely no idea what temperature the oven is cranking away at but I smell bread, so something good is happening.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Gluten-free Chile?
Orientation is over! Today we all moved out of the hostel and into our respective permanent housing. Though I’m looking forward to not living out of a suitcase anymore, I feel a little sad to not have the other members of my class with me. We’ve been together constantly for the past eight days, so we all (or maybe just me) have a little separation anxiety.
I’m excited, though, about my new casa! I’m living in an apartment in a fairly hip residential area of Santiago called Ñuñoa. I’ll be living with a couple—Ana from Argentina and Carlos from Cuba—and, for the first month and a half, another VE volunteer. Carlos and Ana are actually on vacation in Buenos Aires for December and most of January so I’m living in their room until they return and the other volunteer heads back to the States. A Chilean woman named Daniela is also staying in the apartment while Ana and Carlos are gone and, considering that she made fresh strawberry juice for us within an hour of my arrival at the house, I think we’ll get along just fine. The apartment is a quick walk to two different Metro stops and a 25 or 30-minute walk to the VE office. I think, also, it should be a fairly easy commute to Entre Todas, my institution, but this I’ll find out on Tuesday!
Now that I’m settling into my apartment, I can take control over my ever-so-complicated food situation. Vegetarianism is baffling enough to Chileans, but Celiac is virtually unknown. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this week, it’s that Chileans love their meat. It’s everywhere, in everything, and usually accompanied by gluten. My first trip to a small grocery store near the hostel warranted a small panic attack, as my options seemed to be nuts, potato chips, wilted iceberg lettuce and mysterious sliced cheese. Thankfully, that turned out to be a horrendous grocery store. I’ve since discovered the beauty of La Vega, an enormous produce/meat market that rivals the Central Market in Florence, as well as Lider, a huge chain of supermarkets that carries most of the items I’d ever need (with the exception, of course, of actual gluten-free products I would normally buy at Whole Foods). Additionally, and miraculously, two of the veteran volunteers took me to an amazing organic food store in one of the super-affluent neighborhoods that has gluten-free pasta, real goat cheese, and tofu! It’s crazy-looking tofu but it’s tofu nonetheless. I’ll see how it is tonight. Going out to eat, eating at other people’s houses, and eating at Entre Todas are going to be huge challenges, but right now I have a cupboard full of food I can eat, so my spirits are high. I also have to mention how great the veteran volunteers have been in accommodating my food issues over the course of the week. Of the nine new volunteers, three of us are vegetarians, I’m gluten-free, and one has major food allergies including nuts, soy, and peas. It’s become a running joke that none of us can eat anything, a joke which made a significant appearance in our class’s skit at Café, a VE dinner with performances of skits and songs held on Friday night.
As fun as this past week has been, I'm looking forward to settling into a routine and diving into my work with the girls at Entre Todas. And for right now, my half-unpacked suitcase awaits! Buenas noches.
I’m excited, though, about my new casa! I’m living in an apartment in a fairly hip residential area of Santiago called Ñuñoa. I’ll be living with a couple—Ana from Argentina and Carlos from Cuba—and, for the first month and a half, another VE volunteer. Carlos and Ana are actually on vacation in Buenos Aires for December and most of January so I’m living in their room until they return and the other volunteer heads back to the States. A Chilean woman named Daniela is also staying in the apartment while Ana and Carlos are gone and, considering that she made fresh strawberry juice for us within an hour of my arrival at the house, I think we’ll get along just fine. The apartment is a quick walk to two different Metro stops and a 25 or 30-minute walk to the VE office. I think, also, it should be a fairly easy commute to Entre Todas, my institution, but this I’ll find out on Tuesday!
Now that I’m settling into my apartment, I can take control over my ever-so-complicated food situation. Vegetarianism is baffling enough to Chileans, but Celiac is virtually unknown. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this week, it’s that Chileans love their meat. It’s everywhere, in everything, and usually accompanied by gluten. My first trip to a small grocery store near the hostel warranted a small panic attack, as my options seemed to be nuts, potato chips, wilted iceberg lettuce and mysterious sliced cheese. Thankfully, that turned out to be a horrendous grocery store. I’ve since discovered the beauty of La Vega, an enormous produce/meat market that rivals the Central Market in Florence, as well as Lider, a huge chain of supermarkets that carries most of the items I’d ever need (with the exception, of course, of actual gluten-free products I would normally buy at Whole Foods). Additionally, and miraculously, two of the veteran volunteers took me to an amazing organic food store in one of the super-affluent neighborhoods that has gluten-free pasta, real goat cheese, and tofu! It’s crazy-looking tofu but it’s tofu nonetheless. I’ll see how it is tonight. Going out to eat, eating at other people’s houses, and eating at Entre Todas are going to be huge challenges, but right now I have a cupboard full of food I can eat, so my spirits are high. I also have to mention how great the veteran volunteers have been in accommodating my food issues over the course of the week. Of the nine new volunteers, three of us are vegetarians, I’m gluten-free, and one has major food allergies including nuts, soy, and peas. It’s become a running joke that none of us can eat anything, a joke which made a significant appearance in our class’s skit at Café, a VE dinner with performances of skits and songs held on Friday night.
As fun as this past week has been, I'm looking forward to settling into a routine and diving into my work with the girls at Entre Todas. And for right now, my half-unpacked suitcase awaits! Buenas noches.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
I'm in love.
Okay, it's decided: VEGlobal and I are two peas in a pod. It's early, still, but after three long days of orientation, I feel more sure than ever about this decision. I don't mean to gush, but I can't quite contain how excited I feel!
VE devotes an entire week to orientation, making sure every volunteer not only feels comfortable with logistical details like learning the Metro (I feel like a pro already) but also understands the ins and outs of the organization itself. VE is unique in that volunteers and and former volunteers completely determine how the organization runs--both the administration here in Chile and the board of directors outside of Chile are comprised entirely of former and/or current volunteers. Former volunteers are also responsible for reviewing applications and interviewing potential volunteers. In other words, every single person involved with VE believes very strongly in what we're doing and takes a serious interest in the future of the organization. VE's structure is self-perpetuating as the new volunteers serve on committees and learn how to lead the core projects of the organization. The veteran volunteers are incredibly committed to their work and have given their time generously this week, cooking lunches for us, imparting wisdom and answering our endless strings of questions.
In processing the beginning of this experience, I realize that most of the frustrating aspects of my volunteering experience in Guatemala are non-existent here with VEGlobal. VE, whose selection process is more competitive than I first thought, accepts no more than ten volunteers per class every three months to ensure that each member of the VE family feels sufficiently trained and supported. VE wants to make sure its work is done well, so rather than accept thirty volunteers at a time who may or may not take their work seriously, they choose a small group of people who will commit fully to the organization and work to make as much progress as possible. The administration has been honest with us about how challenging our work will be, but openly and frequently expresses its gratitude to us for making VE's work possible. I could not be more thrilled to join such a caring, passionate community.
On a lighter note, VE has this orientation week down to a science, to the point that I have to laugh at how successful some of the activities have been in helping my class of nine newbies to bond. We're all living in a room together at a hostal for the week before we move into our permanant housing, so it's one big sleepover until moving day on Sunday. Our ages range from 18 to 29 and we're getting along famously. Because this is Chile, and nothing quite happens as you expect it to, we already have a handful of shared jokes and stories. We've all had run-ins with the grouchy, bitter expat who owns the hostel, as well as adventures with Santiago's transportation system. Today, sadly, it appears that someone jumped in front of a train in the Metro, closing that direction of the line across the busiest part of the center of Santiago during rush hour. The crowds of people were absolutely unbelievable--the hundreds or even thousands of people that would have been taking the Metro were forced to try to crowd onto buses and into taxis, most of them left standing frustrated on the streets. Though the Metro system functions efficiently and beautifully, it barely holds the quantity of people who utilize it. The train cars fill up like Guatemalan chicken buses with people standing shoulder to shoulder and squished up against the doors and windows. So today, with no metro, the crowds were a sight to see.
Overall, I'm feeling really, really hopeful. To close, I'll mention a Chilean custom that I've come to love. Every time you greet someone or say good-bye to them, you kiss their left cheek. We do this amongst ourselves at VE and with all Chileans we meet. Not only is it the polite thing to do, for us it accentuates the affectionate atmosphere of the VE community. We've been told to absolutely follow this custom with our kids and the staff when we go to our institutions, every day, no exceptions. Because I've been so interested for the past few years in issues of human touch, I love this daily reminder that every human is worth being greeted in a warm, physical way. Hurray.
VE devotes an entire week to orientation, making sure every volunteer not only feels comfortable with logistical details like learning the Metro (I feel like a pro already) but also understands the ins and outs of the organization itself. VE is unique in that volunteers and and former volunteers completely determine how the organization runs--both the administration here in Chile and the board of directors outside of Chile are comprised entirely of former and/or current volunteers. Former volunteers are also responsible for reviewing applications and interviewing potential volunteers. In other words, every single person involved with VE believes very strongly in what we're doing and takes a serious interest in the future of the organization. VE's structure is self-perpetuating as the new volunteers serve on committees and learn how to lead the core projects of the organization. The veteran volunteers are incredibly committed to their work and have given their time generously this week, cooking lunches for us, imparting wisdom and answering our endless strings of questions.
In processing the beginning of this experience, I realize that most of the frustrating aspects of my volunteering experience in Guatemala are non-existent here with VEGlobal. VE, whose selection process is more competitive than I first thought, accepts no more than ten volunteers per class every three months to ensure that each member of the VE family feels sufficiently trained and supported. VE wants to make sure its work is done well, so rather than accept thirty volunteers at a time who may or may not take their work seriously, they choose a small group of people who will commit fully to the organization and work to make as much progress as possible. The administration has been honest with us about how challenging our work will be, but openly and frequently expresses its gratitude to us for making VE's work possible. I could not be more thrilled to join such a caring, passionate community.
On a lighter note, VE has this orientation week down to a science, to the point that I have to laugh at how successful some of the activities have been in helping my class of nine newbies to bond. We're all living in a room together at a hostal for the week before we move into our permanant housing, so it's one big sleepover until moving day on Sunday. Our ages range from 18 to 29 and we're getting along famously. Because this is Chile, and nothing quite happens as you expect it to, we already have a handful of shared jokes and stories. We've all had run-ins with the grouchy, bitter expat who owns the hostel, as well as adventures with Santiago's transportation system. Today, sadly, it appears that someone jumped in front of a train in the Metro, closing that direction of the line across the busiest part of the center of Santiago during rush hour. The crowds of people were absolutely unbelievable--the hundreds or even thousands of people that would have been taking the Metro were forced to try to crowd onto buses and into taxis, most of them left standing frustrated on the streets. Though the Metro system functions efficiently and beautifully, it barely holds the quantity of people who utilize it. The train cars fill up like Guatemalan chicken buses with people standing shoulder to shoulder and squished up against the doors and windows. So today, with no metro, the crowds were a sight to see.
Overall, I'm feeling really, really hopeful. To close, I'll mention a Chilean custom that I've come to love. Every time you greet someone or say good-bye to them, you kiss their left cheek. We do this amongst ourselves at VE and with all Chileans we meet. Not only is it the polite thing to do, for us it accentuates the affectionate atmosphere of the VE community. We've been told to absolutely follow this custom with our kids and the staff when we go to our institutions, every day, no exceptions. Because I've been so interested for the past few years in issues of human touch, I love this daily reminder that every human is worth being greeted in a warm, physical way. Hurray.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Welcome to Chile: we don't want your cranberries.
¡Hola de Santiago de Chile! And welcome to my very first blog, eeks! I'll be chronicling my year here in Chile as I work for VEGlobal (Voluntarious de la Esperanza, or Volunteers of Hope), a non-profit organization that empowers volunteers to guide children at social risk toward productive and meaningful adulthoods. VE works with fourteen different institutions around Santiago including schools, orphanages, and community centers. My personal assignment is at a home for girls who have been abused and/or can no longer live with their own families. I'm thrilled about this opportunity to work at Residencia Entre Todas, as well as on the Corporate Relations Committee, where hopefully I'll learn something about the money/business-y side of non-profits. Overall, I'm feeling very positive about the potential of this experience.
I arrived in Santiago early this afternoon and am grateful for a bit of down time before my orientation starts on Monday morning. My trip was smooth for the most part, complete with an unexpected round of applause. I flew LAN, Chile's principle airline, and felt immediately submersed in a culture not my own. The flight attendants spoke only Spanish and sometimes announcements weren't translated into English. We stopped in Lima and upon touching down safely, the entire plane broke out in ferocious applause. No hooting or hollering, just vigorous, purposeful appreciation. I thought this was great fun and couldn't wait to land in Santiago for another round. I mean, why don't we applaud every time a plane lands? Much to my disappointment, however, no clapping in Santiago. My hands were raised and ready, but no go.
After collecting my bags and thinking everything was going perfectly, I slid the luggage through one final scan in Customs. They stopped my large suitcase and asked if I had chocolate in it. Likely story, I know, but I had none. They looked closely at the screen then said, "Cereal?" Then I remembered, my gallon ziplock back of homemade gluten-free granola with cranberries was in the suitcase. We went back and forth as I tried to explain the concept of granola in Spanish, then finally they removed the item in question. Marcos, a slightly cocky employee of the Servicio Agricola y Ganadero (Agriculture and Livestock) pointed to the cranberries and asked what they were.
"Cranberries...?" I said, not knowing the Spanish word for them.
"Granola con cranberries?" Marcos asked.
"Sí."
"Granola con cranberries?" He asked again. I nodded.
Marcos pulled out a form and began filling it out. I peeked at the title: "ACTA DE DENUNCIA Y CITACION." Denunciation? Citation? After a lengthy lecture about how I didn't declare my granola con cranberries and an explanation of the scary form, Marcos sent me to sit outside a little office. I sat there for about fifteen minutes before another man called me in. I sat down across from him as he typed furiously. He asked if I spoke Spanish and announced he would be asking me a series of questions, such as what my occupation was and where I was traveling from. Finally, he got to his most important question: Why didn't I declare my granola con cranberries? If I hadn't been so close to crying I might have laughed at him, but I managed to answer that I had simply forgotten about the granola con cranberries. He then gave me an even lengthier lecture about the importance of declaring animal and vegetable products and how I could be charged a $4,500 fine. He explained that I wouldn't be charged the fine this time, but that if I ever tried bringing cranberries into Chile again, there would be no escaping the charge. He photocopied the four very official-looking, government-stamped forms detailing my infraction and handed them to me, muchas gracias y adios.
In the time these shenanigans took, my ride from VE had left the airport thinking I had missed my flight. No big deal, I took a taxi, but let me tell you: Marcos missed the small bag of granola con cranberries in my carry-on and I'm munching on it right now.
I arrived in Santiago early this afternoon and am grateful for a bit of down time before my orientation starts on Monday morning. My trip was smooth for the most part, complete with an unexpected round of applause. I flew LAN, Chile's principle airline, and felt immediately submersed in a culture not my own. The flight attendants spoke only Spanish and sometimes announcements weren't translated into English. We stopped in Lima and upon touching down safely, the entire plane broke out in ferocious applause. No hooting or hollering, just vigorous, purposeful appreciation. I thought this was great fun and couldn't wait to land in Santiago for another round. I mean, why don't we applaud every time a plane lands? Much to my disappointment, however, no clapping in Santiago. My hands were raised and ready, but no go.
After collecting my bags and thinking everything was going perfectly, I slid the luggage through one final scan in Customs. They stopped my large suitcase and asked if I had chocolate in it. Likely story, I know, but I had none. They looked closely at the screen then said, "Cereal?" Then I remembered, my gallon ziplock back of homemade gluten-free granola with cranberries was in the suitcase. We went back and forth as I tried to explain the concept of granola in Spanish, then finally they removed the item in question. Marcos, a slightly cocky employee of the Servicio Agricola y Ganadero (Agriculture and Livestock) pointed to the cranberries and asked what they were.
"Cranberries...?" I said, not knowing the Spanish word for them.
"Granola con cranberries?" Marcos asked.
"Sí."
"Granola con cranberries?" He asked again. I nodded.
Marcos pulled out a form and began filling it out. I peeked at the title: "ACTA DE DENUNCIA Y CITACION." Denunciation? Citation? After a lengthy lecture about how I didn't declare my granola con cranberries and an explanation of the scary form, Marcos sent me to sit outside a little office. I sat there for about fifteen minutes before another man called me in. I sat down across from him as he typed furiously. He asked if I spoke Spanish and announced he would be asking me a series of questions, such as what my occupation was and where I was traveling from. Finally, he got to his most important question: Why didn't I declare my granola con cranberries? If I hadn't been so close to crying I might have laughed at him, but I managed to answer that I had simply forgotten about the granola con cranberries. He then gave me an even lengthier lecture about the importance of declaring animal and vegetable products and how I could be charged a $4,500 fine. He explained that I wouldn't be charged the fine this time, but that if I ever tried bringing cranberries into Chile again, there would be no escaping the charge. He photocopied the four very official-looking, government-stamped forms detailing my infraction and handed them to me, muchas gracias y adios.
In the time these shenanigans took, my ride from VE had left the airport thinking I had missed my flight. No big deal, I took a taxi, but let me tell you: Marcos missed the small bag of granola con cranberries in my carry-on and I'm munching on it right now.
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