A week has flown by very very fast. I meant to write earlier but life in the hostel and in BA in general does not leave a lot of time....however a recap.
After my steak and rain walk on Monday, Tuesday I went for a walk and to do some errands. I walked to the river again, past Casa Rosada, met a friend for coffee and generally explored the city. Wednesday my day was interrupted by being told I had to move rooms...annoying hostel...but after I walked to Recoleta and walked around the cemetery which is incredible. Thousands of tombs that could double as summer houses..some so old and decrepit you could see the bones through the doors. That evening we had a party in the hostel and danced for hours.
Thursday I simply did more walking, the dancing having worn me and my feet out! However I did go to San Telmo, to the market and looked at some really lovely things...old leather bags...buckets of buttons....and chops of meet all chock block in an old warehouse.
That night I went to my first BA club, 69, which had a tranny show! Entertaining to say the least, though more impressive was a break dancing show in between the tranny bits.. some really talented dancers.
Friday it rained and I went to Malba. A lovely musuem, though I was soaking wet as walked most of the way there.
Overall impression of BA is very favorable. I leave tomorrow morning for Salta, but don't want to go. Am going for a final steak tonight and an early flight tomorrow.
x
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
BA
I have now left the valley and am in Buenos Aires. It was a long but uneventful trip from the valley. I fell asleep the moment I got on the midnight bus in Serena and was woken by the conductor as we entered Santiago. I got to the airport 4 hours before my flight and waited 2 hours to check in, the only break in the tedium was an amusing display by one of the airlines. 30 people (led by a particularly annoying loud American with a canoe) filled up the line to check in before anyone was there to check in. After standing for thirty minutes the stewardesses came and a airport official who made everyone back out with all of their bags and belongings, weaving awkwardly through the lines and then checked their passports and made them file back in. Very entertaining.
I arrived in BA about 3 o’clock yesterday. The hostel is fine, huge and pristine, but too many gap years for my taste and the staff all speak English except the two doormen who I therefore like the best. It’s all very gap year partyish and fine for one stay, but not a choice to be repeated.
Yesterday I went for a walk soon after arriving and it began to rain, which was wonderful as it never rained in Pisco. Sheltering under an overhanging I met an Argentinian and when the rain let up walked around the city with him, ending up with steak and wine! A good first day adventure, however it made me realize my Chilean castillano is completely useless. Also the argentinian castillano (or castishano as they seem to pronounce it) is hilarious but confusing as basic words are pronounced so differently as to be unrecognizable. So far I prefer the ungrammatical, fast and much more entertaining Chilean castillano. I have lots of Chilean pride which I have to reign in a bit to stay out of trouble. I have dropped the extra slangy verb tense (stai, vivi, queri..etc) but refuse to stop using all the excellent slang which the argentinians seem to lack.
Today I walked mostly with no firm direction, but have more definite plans for tomorrow.
I arrived in BA about 3 o’clock yesterday. The hostel is fine, huge and pristine, but too many gap years for my taste and the staff all speak English except the two doormen who I therefore like the best. It’s all very gap year partyish and fine for one stay, but not a choice to be repeated.
Yesterday I went for a walk soon after arriving and it began to rain, which was wonderful as it never rained in Pisco. Sheltering under an overhanging I met an Argentinian and when the rain let up walked around the city with him, ending up with steak and wine! A good first day adventure, however it made me realize my Chilean castillano is completely useless. Also the argentinian castillano (or castishano as they seem to pronounce it) is hilarious but confusing as basic words are pronounced so differently as to be unrecognizable. So far I prefer the ungrammatical, fast and much more entertaining Chilean castillano. I have lots of Chilean pride which I have to reign in a bit to stay out of trouble. I have dropped the extra slangy verb tense (stai, vivi, queri..etc) but refuse to stop using all the excellent slang which the argentinians seem to lack.
Today I walked mostly with no firm direction, but have more definite plans for tomorrow.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
lagrimas
I leave pisco in 4 hours and I have come to the internet to write a final post and buy tissues!
My last weeks have been strange. Teachers have been on strike, however we have gone to school to practice for the May 21st celebration. This year pre'kinder to 4th grade prepared dances.. the 4th grade danced the traditional cueca and some really well. All the children wore costumes and the plaza was crowded with spectators. After the dances we marched around and then went home. A slightly sad way to end my experience as I had no chance to say goodbyes, however with my tendancy to cry its probably better. I was told by one of Tota´s friends later that I stood out the most as the only non-serious person in the marching!
Despite the strike I have been incredibly busy organizing final things, making final trips to the river and then having my different despedidas. Last night I went to a bar to listen to friends play in their band, then to the other bar to say goodbye to the owners and then to the disco to say goodbye to more people. All very hectic.
I am off on the night bus to santiago and then an early flight to BA in the morning. From there who knows but will try and update it a bit more than I have been doing.
x
My last weeks have been strange. Teachers have been on strike, however we have gone to school to practice for the May 21st celebration. This year pre'kinder to 4th grade prepared dances.. the 4th grade danced the traditional cueca and some really well. All the children wore costumes and the plaza was crowded with spectators. After the dances we marched around and then went home. A slightly sad way to end my experience as I had no chance to say goodbyes, however with my tendancy to cry its probably better. I was told by one of Tota´s friends later that I stood out the most as the only non-serious person in the marching!
Despite the strike I have been incredibly busy organizing final things, making final trips to the river and then having my different despedidas. Last night I went to a bar to listen to friends play in their band, then to the other bar to say goodbye to the owners and then to the disco to say goodbye to more people. All very hectic.
I am off on the night bus to santiago and then an early flight to BA in the morning. From there who knows but will try and update it a bit more than I have been doing.
x
Saturday, May 9, 2009
comida
The first week when I arrived and had rice and grated carrot for lunch and supper for three days straight I did think am I going to make it. However since then my food has undergone a significant change.
There is still a lot of rice. When I used to have lunch and supper at home every day I probably had rice 10 times a week. The other times would be pasta or quinoa. When I first arrived after a week of no meat I asked Tota if she was a vegetarian and she said yes. Since then I have realized that yes is a Chilean vegetarian which eats meat once a week instead of every day. Once we were sorting out food in Serena and Anne who is a legit vegetarian said she didn’t eat meat so couldn’t have a hamburger and the Chilean solution was a hot dog.
Anyway, I have meat on the weekends, during the week with the rice I have lentils which I have grown fond of, chick peas or some other bean. The first month I had tomatoes every day, I have grown to love them. I also have grown to love marmalade. Tota makes her own apricot marmalade and it is delicious. My breakfast every morning, was her home made pan which she can make out of anything, last time it was pan with quinoa and oats, marmalade and black tea with sugar. Then I finished all the marmalade and now have avena, oatmeal, with palm syrup.
The big Chilean thing is palta (avocados, palta is a solely Chilean word) and manjar (similar to dulce de leche). Every sweet pastry, cake whatever is made with manjar, and I have palta 4 or 5 times a week. They use it like butter spread on bread with a bit of salt it is delicious.
The wife of my teacher always asks me have I eaten this have I eaten that, referring to the typical Chilean dishes, in truth I simply eat very simple things. Chileans don’t use spices, when we asked for extra spices on a mexicana pizza, we were given a little bowl of peppers with the seeds cut out! They flavor things by adding tomatoes and palta to everything.
Finally I eat lots of grapes. They signify good luck and as everyone has a grape vine they are easy to come by. Or if you don’t happen to have a grape vine, you can walk by a orchard/pasture/field of grapes and put your hand through the fence.
x
There is still a lot of rice. When I used to have lunch and supper at home every day I probably had rice 10 times a week. The other times would be pasta or quinoa. When I first arrived after a week of no meat I asked Tota if she was a vegetarian and she said yes. Since then I have realized that yes is a Chilean vegetarian which eats meat once a week instead of every day. Once we were sorting out food in Serena and Anne who is a legit vegetarian said she didn’t eat meat so couldn’t have a hamburger and the Chilean solution was a hot dog.
Anyway, I have meat on the weekends, during the week with the rice I have lentils which I have grown fond of, chick peas or some other bean. The first month I had tomatoes every day, I have grown to love them. I also have grown to love marmalade. Tota makes her own apricot marmalade and it is delicious. My breakfast every morning, was her home made pan which she can make out of anything, last time it was pan with quinoa and oats, marmalade and black tea with sugar. Then I finished all the marmalade and now have avena, oatmeal, with palm syrup.
The big Chilean thing is palta (avocados, palta is a solely Chilean word) and manjar (similar to dulce de leche). Every sweet pastry, cake whatever is made with manjar, and I have palta 4 or 5 times a week. They use it like butter spread on bread with a bit of salt it is delicious.
The wife of my teacher always asks me have I eaten this have I eaten that, referring to the typical Chilean dishes, in truth I simply eat very simple things. Chileans don’t use spices, when we asked for extra spices on a mexicana pizza, we were given a little bowl of peppers with the seeds cut out! They flavor things by adding tomatoes and palta to everything.
Finally I eat lots of grapes. They signify good luck and as everyone has a grape vine they are easy to come by. Or if you don’t happen to have a grape vine, you can walk by a orchard/pasture/field of grapes and put your hand through the fence.
x
First of May
I celebrated the first of May by walking to Horcon, some 4 km or so basically up hill in the boiling sun. The road is unpaved, narrow and fool of holes and has been under construction since we got here though I see no improvements. About 20 minutes into our walk we turned a corner and saw a colony of white bubble houses. We went in to see what they and were told they were a hotel/cabanas. They are called the Elqui Domes and they basically attract rich tourists who want to gaze at the starts. Each dome is open at the top with a telescope! When I got home I asked Tota about them and she said a friend had stayed there to test them out, and besides being extremely overpriced, they are also freezing in winter, boiling in summer, have no plumbing and you can hear everything in between bubbles…looks can certainly be deceiving.
After the domes we walked for what seemed like hours, the little town of Horcon was completely quiet with the single little village shop shut. In search of water we walked on, got diverted off the road down to basically a dirt track that went by the river. The track was about 30 degrees cooler than the road and we found a shop to buy figs and water and pears and cake and had a picnic by the river. Feeling much refreshed we walked on and around another corner came across the Pueblo Artesenal de Horcon. There were about 20 or so little shops arranged in a circle. The shops sold a mixture of crap, some stunning jewelry made from flowers painted over with resin so they looked like glass, wood carvings, lots of glass things, chocolate and manjar, and some leather books I was sorely tempted by.
After looking round all the shops and chatting to the resin jewelry woman we started the walk back and luckily got a ride from a Santiago couple. The amount of tourists in Pisco for the long weekend was ridiculous, and apparently much less than Semana Santa or the summer. Before getting a ride we passed a group of men having a picnic along side the river with them was a dwarf (I don’t think little person would even be understood in chile) who called to us various things, typical Chilean man using his 20 words of English to talk to gringas, he was obviously drunk and quite funny. Later we found out his name is Juan I think, Juanito and he gets roaring drunk and high at the one bar in Horcon, and when he is too out of control, the barman calls his wife who is a regular height and she comes and picks him up…in a wheelbarrow!
Saturday I went to the plaza with my family to watch the tourists and out to the local club Topsy with Anne where we saw all our liceo students.
xx
After the domes we walked for what seemed like hours, the little town of Horcon was completely quiet with the single little village shop shut. In search of water we walked on, got diverted off the road down to basically a dirt track that went by the river. The track was about 30 degrees cooler than the road and we found a shop to buy figs and water and pears and cake and had a picnic by the river. Feeling much refreshed we walked on and around another corner came across the Pueblo Artesenal de Horcon. There were about 20 or so little shops arranged in a circle. The shops sold a mixture of crap, some stunning jewelry made from flowers painted over with resin so they looked like glass, wood carvings, lots of glass things, chocolate and manjar, and some leather books I was sorely tempted by.
After looking round all the shops and chatting to the resin jewelry woman we started the walk back and luckily got a ride from a Santiago couple. The amount of tourists in Pisco for the long weekend was ridiculous, and apparently much less than Semana Santa or the summer. Before getting a ride we passed a group of men having a picnic along side the river with them was a dwarf (I don’t think little person would even be understood in chile) who called to us various things, typical Chilean man using his 20 words of English to talk to gringas, he was obviously drunk and quite funny. Later we found out his name is Juan I think, Juanito and he gets roaring drunk and high at the one bar in Horcon, and when he is too out of control, the barman calls his wife who is a regular height and she comes and picks him up…in a wheelbarrow!
Saturday I went to the plaza with my family to watch the tourists and out to the local club Topsy with Anne where we saw all our liceo students.
xx
Saturday, May 2, 2009
life as normal
My first month I had an abundance of time, in an endeavor to use up some of my extra time I offered to take on an extra day at the Liceo, somehow my one offer led to others and I now work at the liceo on Monday and Wednesdays until 4, Thursdays till 5, as well as have a drawing class on Mondays till 6, and help with the government sponsored Public Speaking contest on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I now look back fondly on days when I would sit on my bench in the Plaza listen to the ipod and watch Elqui life.
The drawing class is not quite what I expected. There is one girl who is 10 and she is the oldest! I feel that when the people of Monte Grande hear there is another class at the cultura, all the young mothers use it as a free babysitting service so they can have an hour to themselves. I am not unsympathetic, however it means I have two children of pre-kinder age who cannot even hold a pencil yet alone color inside of a shape. Then three children of kinder age who actually are pretty adept and two eight/nine year olds one of whom is intensely irritating and I have had to threaten to kick her out more than once. Tota says I should put my foot down and say they have to be above a certain age, and if I had thought of it before I would certainly have done so, but two classes in it seems a bit mean. Therefore I spend my evenings racking my brain for more coloring projects that A. I can create without any material except paper, and B. don’t bore me to death.
The Liceo is hilarious and very irregular. The liceo teachers take off whenever they can and Chile has more days of the workers, strikes and unofficial local holidays than there are in a year. The other primary schools don’t take these days off. Therefore on numerous occasions I have run for the bus at 1.30 arrived in Paihuano at five past 2 to discover there are no classes and have to wait half an hour for a bus back to Pisco. Or there have been times when I have missed the class as for no apparent reason there has been no bus and I have sat in the plaza for over an hour. The next day there were three within ten minutes.
When I do get to the Liceo it is very amusing. The students are completely unmotivated, but very funny. I, as the youngest gringa, receive hilarious notes in ungrammatical English: “could you be my reason of life?” is my favorite so far. Last week in Primero Medio (freshmen) I received twenty or so notes which I then gave to Kether, the teacher, causing consternation among the students that he would write them up in the book.
The book is the only system of control. After three bad notations in the book, which also contains all the information about the students, grades and lesson plans and attendance, the students’ parents are called in to meet with the teacher. Therefore if you threaten to write in the book they will behave, for about a minute until they forget. However, most of the second graders have two or three pages worth of two line comments and since the parents don’t care, the one system of punishment is completely ineffectual.
One of the second grader’s parents came to the school the other day as there little brat, Nicolas, had told his parents that Carlos had tried to choke him. Despite them having been called in about once a week to discuss Nicolas’s appalling behavior, they believed him, rather than the truth which was Carlos had to half pull him off a huge cupboard which he had climbed on top of in order to jump out of the window. This jump would certainly have resulted in broken bones. Anyway, because of these silly parents, we now cannot touch Nicolas even when he is running around the classroom with a stick trying to brain a fellow student.
Yesterday, the first of May was another day of the workers so no school and no second graders!
The drawing class is not quite what I expected. There is one girl who is 10 and she is the oldest! I feel that when the people of Monte Grande hear there is another class at the cultura, all the young mothers use it as a free babysitting service so they can have an hour to themselves. I am not unsympathetic, however it means I have two children of pre-kinder age who cannot even hold a pencil yet alone color inside of a shape. Then three children of kinder age who actually are pretty adept and two eight/nine year olds one of whom is intensely irritating and I have had to threaten to kick her out more than once. Tota says I should put my foot down and say they have to be above a certain age, and if I had thought of it before I would certainly have done so, but two classes in it seems a bit mean. Therefore I spend my evenings racking my brain for more coloring projects that A. I can create without any material except paper, and B. don’t bore me to death.
The Liceo is hilarious and very irregular. The liceo teachers take off whenever they can and Chile has more days of the workers, strikes and unofficial local holidays than there are in a year. The other primary schools don’t take these days off. Therefore on numerous occasions I have run for the bus at 1.30 arrived in Paihuano at five past 2 to discover there are no classes and have to wait half an hour for a bus back to Pisco. Or there have been times when I have missed the class as for no apparent reason there has been no bus and I have sat in the plaza for over an hour. The next day there were three within ten minutes.
When I do get to the Liceo it is very amusing. The students are completely unmotivated, but very funny. I, as the youngest gringa, receive hilarious notes in ungrammatical English: “could you be my reason of life?” is my favorite so far. Last week in Primero Medio (freshmen) I received twenty or so notes which I then gave to Kether, the teacher, causing consternation among the students that he would write them up in the book.
The book is the only system of control. After three bad notations in the book, which also contains all the information about the students, grades and lesson plans and attendance, the students’ parents are called in to meet with the teacher. Therefore if you threaten to write in the book they will behave, for about a minute until they forget. However, most of the second graders have two or three pages worth of two line comments and since the parents don’t care, the one system of punishment is completely ineffectual.
One of the second grader’s parents came to the school the other day as there little brat, Nicolas, had told his parents that Carlos had tried to choke him. Despite them having been called in about once a week to discuss Nicolas’s appalling behavior, they believed him, rather than the truth which was Carlos had to half pull him off a huge cupboard which he had climbed on top of in order to jump out of the window. This jump would certainly have resulted in broken bones. Anyway, because of these silly parents, we now cannot touch Nicolas even when he is running around the classroom with a stick trying to brain a fellow student.
Yesterday, the first of May was another day of the workers so no school and no second graders!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Semana Santa
Church on Semana Santa began at 11. We got there just after 11, the boys in swim shorts, to start climbing the steps with hundreds of other people in a mixture of skirts and tops, to sweatpants and tank tops to jeans and clubbing outfits. We filed into the church which had benches in rows going outwards in a cross shape from the circular altar. We sat down and the service started soon after, though people kept on coming and going throughout the service.
It started normally with a nun saying a blessing, and then the jazz piano began and all my ideas of Chilean church went out the window.
The jazz piano played all through the service with help in the anthems from two guitarists, a very jazzy choir, and a man in the tightest pair of jeans I have ever seen, gelled hair and a t-shirt who got up behind the pulpit with his guitar to sing his solo.
The more traditional bits of the service were performed by the nuns and the priest, but the choir stole the show, and we left the church 50 minutes later to a Spanish jazz version of the saints go marching. As we left, people were still filing in milling about in front of the church, much more a party atmosphere then a serious one, and a high percentage of teenagers, fleites and normal.
All together a pretty good way to spend Pascua.
It started normally with a nun saying a blessing, and then the jazz piano began and all my ideas of Chilean church went out the window.
The jazz piano played all through the service with help in the anthems from two guitarists, a very jazzy choir, and a man in the tightest pair of jeans I have ever seen, gelled hair and a t-shirt who got up behind the pulpit with his guitar to sing his solo.
The more traditional bits of the service were performed by the nuns and the priest, but the choir stole the show, and we left the church 50 minutes later to a Spanish jazz version of the saints go marching. As we left, people were still filing in milling about in front of the church, much more a party atmosphere then a serious one, and a high percentage of teenagers, fleites and normal.
All together a pretty good way to spend Pascua.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
a far cry from the peace of elqui
My luck with buses…
I was invited to go to Los Andes for Easter and despite the long bus trip, I accepted. However if I had known the nightmare I would have to put up with buses I would have changed my mind.
I planned to leave on the Thursday before easter catching an early bus to arrive in Santiago around 7 at night and to go to Los Andes with the family the next day. I was told on Tuesday I could buy my ticket on line but at the time had not talked to the family with which bus to take. Wednesday with the correct information I went to the Tur-bus site to buy the passage. I was stopped short by my lack of a rut number (like a SS number) which I needed to make an account to buy a ticket. Carlos called the company to see if he could use his rut number and we were stopped again as I could only use a Visa credit card attached to a Banco de Chile. Not only do I not have one, but not one of the teachers in Pisco or Paihuano has one either! Carlos however offered to drive me to Vicuna that night to buy a ticket at the bus station so I arrived home at 10 with a ticket for 1.30 the next day from Vicuna.
Step 2. I got the bus from Pisco to Vicuna arriving at 1, waited around for half an hour and when my bus did not appear at 1.30 went to the office to see where it was. There I was told by two slightly shocked women that I had been told the wrong time, the bus actually left Vicuna at 11.45 and Serena at 1.30. By this time it was 1.45 and I was an hour from Serena. They changed my ticket to the 4 o’clock bus from Serena to Santiago and I ran to jump on a different bus to Serena. When I got there I called the family with the information that I was either going to arrive at 11 in Santiago, or I could wait in Serena for 5 hours and take the night bus arriving 6 the next morning. I was told that either way all public transportation would be stopped. The solution finally was to take the 4 o’clock bus and get a radio taxi from the terminal to their house.
My bus was typically late and I didn’t arrive at their house till almost 12 and then wolfed down a piece of quiche and left with the mum for Los Andes! Got there about 1 having been traveling for 13 hours.
In the end it was definitely worth it. Los Andes is beautiful ( though not as stunning as the Elqui). The best parts were riding their polo ponies through the mountains as the sun set. The horses were amazingly well trained and just as happy to run after polo balls as climber up hills dodging cacti and rocks and drop offs.
Their house is on a farm with peach and walnut orchards. Apparently this year has been bad for peaches as they didn’t grow to their proper exporting size and fell of early, left to rot on the ground. This produced the most wonderful sweet smell in the evenings during rides and meant the orchards were fine for us to scour.
Semana Santa I went to the church of Santa Teresa, I think that is the one, my first chilean catholic church going experience and it deserves its own post.
x
I was invited to go to Los Andes for Easter and despite the long bus trip, I accepted. However if I had known the nightmare I would have to put up with buses I would have changed my mind.
I planned to leave on the Thursday before easter catching an early bus to arrive in Santiago around 7 at night and to go to Los Andes with the family the next day. I was told on Tuesday I could buy my ticket on line but at the time had not talked to the family with which bus to take. Wednesday with the correct information I went to the Tur-bus site to buy the passage. I was stopped short by my lack of a rut number (like a SS number) which I needed to make an account to buy a ticket. Carlos called the company to see if he could use his rut number and we were stopped again as I could only use a Visa credit card attached to a Banco de Chile. Not only do I not have one, but not one of the teachers in Pisco or Paihuano has one either! Carlos however offered to drive me to Vicuna that night to buy a ticket at the bus station so I arrived home at 10 with a ticket for 1.30 the next day from Vicuna.
Step 2. I got the bus from Pisco to Vicuna arriving at 1, waited around for half an hour and when my bus did not appear at 1.30 went to the office to see where it was. There I was told by two slightly shocked women that I had been told the wrong time, the bus actually left Vicuna at 11.45 and Serena at 1.30. By this time it was 1.45 and I was an hour from Serena. They changed my ticket to the 4 o’clock bus from Serena to Santiago and I ran to jump on a different bus to Serena. When I got there I called the family with the information that I was either going to arrive at 11 in Santiago, or I could wait in Serena for 5 hours and take the night bus arriving 6 the next morning. I was told that either way all public transportation would be stopped. The solution finally was to take the 4 o’clock bus and get a radio taxi from the terminal to their house.
My bus was typically late and I didn’t arrive at their house till almost 12 and then wolfed down a piece of quiche and left with the mum for Los Andes! Got there about 1 having been traveling for 13 hours.
In the end it was definitely worth it. Los Andes is beautiful ( though not as stunning as the Elqui). The best parts were riding their polo ponies through the mountains as the sun set. The horses were amazingly well trained and just as happy to run after polo balls as climber up hills dodging cacti and rocks and drop offs.
Their house is on a farm with peach and walnut orchards. Apparently this year has been bad for peaches as they didn’t grow to their proper exporting size and fell of early, left to rot on the ground. This produced the most wonderful sweet smell in the evenings during rides and meant the orchards were fine for us to scour.
Semana Santa I went to the church of Santa Teresa, I think that is the one, my first chilean catholic church going experience and it deserves its own post.
x
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
A place where...
A woman running down a street is seen by a man who whistles to another man who whistles to the bus which not only stops, but backs up down the street to pick her up…
The fresh fruit and veg man and the gas man drive around all day and to get either one only has to yell out the window….not only that for two weeks Tota missed the fruit and veg and one day he called her when she was at the bottom of the hill to make sure everything was ok and when she responded that she now was at work when he came past he asked for her order over the phone and left it with her neighbor at the bottom of the hill for her to collect later…
I am regularly greeted as hija which I love, and the ninety year old woman on the street is called abuela by everyone and is checked on by regularly by anyone who passes…
There are no street addresses none are necessary I live with la tota and everyone knows where that is…
As I sat in the square yesterday the lone runner of the valley passed three times as the only place to run is in circles.
Tota is currently making lots of jeweler for semana santa and I want all of it. Stupid tourists. She makes the jewelry and Juanpa I actually have no idea how to spell it, a nickname pronouncd wampa takes it around the restaurants and squares selling it hopefully at an exorbitant sum though I don’t think so.
I have extracted myself from the weaving and am starting a drawing class on Wednesdays with the montegrande youth. This means I have to go to Vicuna sometime to buy supplies as they have nothing. I want to buy pastels and they have one pack at the Casa, but I think they might be difficult to find.
This weekend I am off to Santiago and Los Andes for Semana Santa…
xx
The fresh fruit and veg man and the gas man drive around all day and to get either one only has to yell out the window….not only that for two weeks Tota missed the fruit and veg and one day he called her when she was at the bottom of the hill to make sure everything was ok and when she responded that she now was at work when he came past he asked for her order over the phone and left it with her neighbor at the bottom of the hill for her to collect later…
I am regularly greeted as hija which I love, and the ninety year old woman on the street is called abuela by everyone and is checked on by regularly by anyone who passes…
There are no street addresses none are necessary I live with la tota and everyone knows where that is…
As I sat in the square yesterday the lone runner of the valley passed three times as the only place to run is in circles.
Tota is currently making lots of jeweler for semana santa and I want all of it. Stupid tourists. She makes the jewelry and Juanpa I actually have no idea how to spell it, a nickname pronouncd wampa takes it around the restaurants and squares selling it hopefully at an exorbitant sum though I don’t think so.
I have extracted myself from the weaving and am starting a drawing class on Wednesdays with the montegrande youth. This means I have to go to Vicuna sometime to buy supplies as they have nothing. I want to buy pastels and they have one pack at the Casa, but I think they might be difficult to find.
This weekend I am off to Santiago and Los Andes for Semana Santa…
xx
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
...
After my exhausting day at the liceo my week didn’t get any better, Friday is my day of hell. Carlos and I use any excuse to be absent. I have managed to miss two and he one. It is the day of three hours of Segundo Basico, a nightmare with any grade with them it is pure torture. The 6 boys Mauro, Nicholas, Thomas, Joaquin, Esteban and Juan are known and slightly feared throughout the school. Juanito has been moved to Quattor Basico purely because it makes Segundo Basico slightly easier.
We walked into the class to a mob of hugs and kisses and then Joaquin climbed in the cupboard, Nicholas and Joaquin escaped to the playground Mauro hit one of the girls in the face and Thomas kicked Mauro. Then Thomas and Mauro kicked a boy that was sitting on the ground the boy went hysterical and tried to kill them all and Carlos had to bodily restrain him while I dragged Joaquin out of the cupboard and sat him down. It takes minutes of cajoling and yelling to get one boy to sit and by then all the rest are up. After what had seemed like an hour at least had passed Carlos and I both looked at our watches and ten minutes had gone by.
Basically the principal has given up on this class. The new school plan is to try and teach the children who want to learn and let the boys run wild. All very well but when do you call a halt to that plan. The janitors take care of them the most as they take the boys off to clean or mop which they infinitely prefer. At one moment Nicholas calmed down a little and I gave him a picture to paint which he enjoyed, however he gave that up in order to paint one of the girls dresses instead which brought more tears.
I detest that class.
Afterwards I had to walk to Monte Grande for the weaving class which I had really been enjoying despite the too long hours. We began washing and dying the wool and all was fine, at about 6 I start clock watching as it begins to get dark and I think about the walk back to Pisco but to the most part it is an enjoyable part of the day….
..and then I woke up Saturday covered in a rash. Turns out I am allergic to some part of the process. I think it’s the mordant we use when dying the wool, as I could have inhaled the smoke. Anyway not really sure but paid a visit to the local clinic (I was pushed ahead of the queue as L’Inglese) and was given antihistamines to take.
It is now Wednesday and the rash is still their now on my hands which is incredibly inconvenient and painful. Therefore sadly I think my weaving days are over and I will have to think of a different way to help the Casa de la Cultura.
x
We walked into the class to a mob of hugs and kisses and then Joaquin climbed in the cupboard, Nicholas and Joaquin escaped to the playground Mauro hit one of the girls in the face and Thomas kicked Mauro. Then Thomas and Mauro kicked a boy that was sitting on the ground the boy went hysterical and tried to kill them all and Carlos had to bodily restrain him while I dragged Joaquin out of the cupboard and sat him down. It takes minutes of cajoling and yelling to get one boy to sit and by then all the rest are up. After what had seemed like an hour at least had passed Carlos and I both looked at our watches and ten minutes had gone by.
Basically the principal has given up on this class. The new school plan is to try and teach the children who want to learn and let the boys run wild. All very well but when do you call a halt to that plan. The janitors take care of them the most as they take the boys off to clean or mop which they infinitely prefer. At one moment Nicholas calmed down a little and I gave him a picture to paint which he enjoyed, however he gave that up in order to paint one of the girls dresses instead which brought more tears.
I detest that class.
Afterwards I had to walk to Monte Grande for the weaving class which I had really been enjoying despite the too long hours. We began washing and dying the wool and all was fine, at about 6 I start clock watching as it begins to get dark and I think about the walk back to Pisco but to the most part it is an enjoyable part of the day….
..and then I woke up Saturday covered in a rash. Turns out I am allergic to some part of the process. I think it’s the mordant we use when dying the wool, as I could have inhaled the smoke. Anyway not really sure but paid a visit to the local clinic (I was pushed ahead of the queue as L’Inglese) and was given antihistamines to take.
It is now Wednesday and the rash is still their now on my hands which is incredibly inconvenient and painful. Therefore sadly I think my weaving days are over and I will have to think of a different way to help the Casa de la Cultura.
x
Monday, March 30, 2009
A Month in Pisco
Last week was full of suprises.
On Monday I went to Alcohuaz one of the satellite schools. I had heard it was the best of all the schools with a caring and dedicated teacher and a slightly different approach topublic education. After expressing interest to Ana the satellite teacher I got up a lot earlier than normal and went with her and Dom over ridiculously terrible roads, as skinny as English country roads but instead of hedges lined with perilous drop offs and mountains, much less forgiving to a drivers miscalculation. However the journey was worth it as the school was wonderful. About 20 children between Primero Basico and Sexto Basico and their 4th graders were better than my 8th graders.
The head teachers theory is that nature and music are very important to the children to have a harmonious education. Therefore they have their own workshop for wood, the walls are lined with some really wonderful drawings and they have songs for everything. We spent the times singing “Yesterday” and Dom began to teach them “Let it Be.”
My Tuesday was average, and then Wednesday I had my first day at the Liceo with the new English teacher and the Quattor Medio, i.e. seniors. They were an unattractive lot who had to take a diagnostic test which most failed. However once we properly began the lesson they were remarkably intuitive about figuring out meanings even if the words are not ones they have specifically learnt. This lack of intelligence/intuition is what is most depressing about the colegio. The children get hung up on a single word and don’t try and comprehend as a whole. Anyway I really enjoyed the first experience with the Liceo and offered to do two hours the next day with Primero A..freshman.
That offer was a mistake. I left the colegio in Pisco at 1.30 got on the bus at 1.40 arrived in Paihuano at the liceo at 2.05 and was told that the teacher, Kettler was not there and not coming to the class of 2.15. There was a frantic search for a teacher with a free period that could stand in the class with me and the 41 freshman, one of the worst classes in the school, but to no avail. Therefore my first experience teaching solo I was completely unprepared, did not even have a whiteboard marker, book, nothing, with a class that stared at me blankly when I said My name is Imogen.
After 45 minutes of trying different things from their book and shouting a lot. I gave up with the curriculum which is stupid anyway and asked about different Spanish music like the cueca, p something which I still can’t pronounce and folklore and had them write down fast or slow tempo, words things like that. The biggest problem is that a reasonable amount were paying attention but the bad ones were so loud I couldn’t hear the ones who were being helpful. Also at the liceo the students spend most of their time hanging out the windows talking to people outside. Luckily for me a security guard saw and came and stood in the door and at one moment said something I didn’t understand which quieted them down for about 5 minutes and when I finished the class 15 minutes early he told me it was fine and he would keep them in the class. He was sufficiently imposing, unlike me, that they didn’t even try to leave.
It was the longest two hours in my life, but as one of the other liceo teachers said. Now I am a real teacher.
On Monday I went to Alcohuaz one of the satellite schools. I had heard it was the best of all the schools with a caring and dedicated teacher and a slightly different approach topublic education. After expressing interest to Ana the satellite teacher I got up a lot earlier than normal and went with her and Dom over ridiculously terrible roads, as skinny as English country roads but instead of hedges lined with perilous drop offs and mountains, much less forgiving to a drivers miscalculation. However the journey was worth it as the school was wonderful. About 20 children between Primero Basico and Sexto Basico and their 4th graders were better than my 8th graders.
The head teachers theory is that nature and music are very important to the children to have a harmonious education. Therefore they have their own workshop for wood, the walls are lined with some really wonderful drawings and they have songs for everything. We spent the times singing “Yesterday” and Dom began to teach them “Let it Be.”
My Tuesday was average, and then Wednesday I had my first day at the Liceo with the new English teacher and the Quattor Medio, i.e. seniors. They were an unattractive lot who had to take a diagnostic test which most failed. However once we properly began the lesson they were remarkably intuitive about figuring out meanings even if the words are not ones they have specifically learnt. This lack of intelligence/intuition is what is most depressing about the colegio. The children get hung up on a single word and don’t try and comprehend as a whole. Anyway I really enjoyed the first experience with the Liceo and offered to do two hours the next day with Primero A..freshman.
That offer was a mistake. I left the colegio in Pisco at 1.30 got on the bus at 1.40 arrived in Paihuano at the liceo at 2.05 and was told that the teacher, Kettler was not there and not coming to the class of 2.15. There was a frantic search for a teacher with a free period that could stand in the class with me and the 41 freshman, one of the worst classes in the school, but to no avail. Therefore my first experience teaching solo I was completely unprepared, did not even have a whiteboard marker, book, nothing, with a class that stared at me blankly when I said My name is Imogen.
After 45 minutes of trying different things from their book and shouting a lot. I gave up with the curriculum which is stupid anyway and asked about different Spanish music like the cueca, p something which I still can’t pronounce and folklore and had them write down fast or slow tempo, words things like that. The biggest problem is that a reasonable amount were paying attention but the bad ones were so loud I couldn’t hear the ones who were being helpful. Also at the liceo the students spend most of their time hanging out the windows talking to people outside. Luckily for me a security guard saw and came and stood in the door and at one moment said something I didn’t understand which quieted them down for about 5 minutes and when I finished the class 15 minutes early he told me it was fine and he would keep them in the class. He was sufficiently imposing, unlike me, that they didn’t even try to leave.
It was the longest two hours in my life, but as one of the other liceo teachers said. Now I am a real teacher.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Reggaeton
My first club in Chile played a lot of reggaeton, actually it played only reggaeton. And we were there from 12 to 5, which is a lot a lot of reggaeton. The one non-reggaeton song was Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. While the music may have been repetitive to say the least, the dancing was pretty incredible. Ed and Dom and I were the three volunteers and we are not from countries that are blessed with natural rhythm, however with us were Andrea, the teacher from Paihuano, her brother Christopher and his friend Heidi who all had extra Chilean dancing genes. They were keen to teach us how to dance/move and Christopher and Heidi in particular were incredible. They also were useful in pointing out the Pelo Leise girls, which are the rich hot ones as they have really long straight hair, and the flaites which are the equivalent to chav/ghetto-ish. Yesterday in the car back from another teacher meeting Carlos added Poncios, girls who kiss anyone and anything all the time, and Pokemones, not quite sure, to our people classifying vocabulary.
After giving the tests last week, I have spent the week grading the tests as it takes me about a minute and Carlos a lot longer, and restarting teaching them English. They have incredibly bad memories and today we spent two hours with the 5th graders practicing hi, hello, how are you and I’m fine thanks. This is something they should have learned at least by 3rd grade, but one of the girls in the class after an hour of repeating and performing the dialogue got cross because she couldn’t pronounce fine and then said she didn’t understand any of it and stormed off. She is not my favorite student.
My Spanish is still mediocre to terrible, last night I had to explain to Tota why Obama was different from other politicians which required more dictionary searching as I couldn’t bear to dumb down my sentences to my Spanish ability. I also tried explaining John Stewart’s crack about the sun not shining near Cheney and how the temperature was 10 degrees colder but I am not sure if she realized it was a joke.
The teacher’s meeting last night was about using the new books they have for pre-kinder and kinder. We have to use a really hideous dog named Patch with crazed eyes and I am not overly looking forward to it.
Today is my relaxed day as tomorrow I have many more classes, and Friday I start the weaving course and next week I start at the Liceo on Wed. and Thurs with students both bigger and older than me. I do not relish the thought.
x
After giving the tests last week, I have spent the week grading the tests as it takes me about a minute and Carlos a lot longer, and restarting teaching them English. They have incredibly bad memories and today we spent two hours with the 5th graders practicing hi, hello, how are you and I’m fine thanks. This is something they should have learned at least by 3rd grade, but one of the girls in the class after an hour of repeating and performing the dialogue got cross because she couldn’t pronounce fine and then said she didn’t understand any of it and stormed off. She is not my favorite student.
My Spanish is still mediocre to terrible, last night I had to explain to Tota why Obama was different from other politicians which required more dictionary searching as I couldn’t bear to dumb down my sentences to my Spanish ability. I also tried explaining John Stewart’s crack about the sun not shining near Cheney and how the temperature was 10 degrees colder but I am not sure if she realized it was a joke.
The teacher’s meeting last night was about using the new books they have for pre-kinder and kinder. We have to use a really hideous dog named Patch with crazed eyes and I am not overly looking forward to it.
Today is my relaxed day as tomorrow I have many more classes, and Friday I start the weaving course and next week I start at the Liceo on Wed. and Thurs with students both bigger and older than me. I do not relish the thought.
x
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Initial Photos
Theo. Maria and friend Maya
View back towards the house
Halfway up a mountain looking back at Pisco
Walking through the vineyards
Education
The problem with teaching English to these children in Pisco, and Paihuano and the smaller schools is that to learn a foreign language one must first be confident in one’s own. And they aren’t. It was a requirement from Mondo that their volunteers be fluent in English, capable of spelling and speaking reasonably well. Pronunciation is an enormous problem in the school, which is to be expected, what is less expected is the difficulty with writing in either language, copying from the board and reading. Without knowing how their language works, how their letters come together to make sounds, learning English to them is like learning hieroglyphs, they don’t recognize any similarities.
We have just finished giving all the grades the diagnostic test. One quarter of the 200 + students turned theirs in blank or practically. One girl burst into tears, she is in Septimo Basico, which is supposed to be after seven years of English, or at the very least three, and she couldn’t write sentences with I can and I can’t. The Octavo Basico were stumped by verbs such as read, drink, go, watch. We are currently teaching Octavo and Quinto the same things.
Now with that grim view there are a few exceptions. There are 1-3 boys in every class that are really excellent, bright and quick to grasp and remember things. However, those boys in Septimo and Octavo prefer to spend their time being clowns with the less intelligent, intensely irritating boys. As Carlos said yesterday, the 4th graders are more mature. There are more girls that are interested, especially in Octavo, but unfortunately the boys haven’t realized they would impress more of them if they weren’t crawling around under the desks and making animal sounds.
Pisco life continues, relaxed and uneventful. I have continued meeting more of Tota’s friends, playing with the children and swimming in the river where the other two volunteers live. I have had three meetings this week, one in Paihuano which lasted ten minutes and required a 50 minute round trip bus ride, and two in Monte Grande at the Casa de la Cultura. Monte Grande is far enough to make walking annoying and close enough to be a pointlessly expensive bus ride. Starting next week I will make the trip often as I am helping/attending a weaving course that they provide for the girls in Monte Grande. Apparently Monte Grande of all the villages is most at risk for continuing the uneducated cycle of the last hundreds of years. Many parents never finished Basico and many students look to follow in their parents’ footsteps.
I am thrilled about the weaving course, they have six giant looms, I am there to provide English help, a different viewpoint, I am not really sure. Less thrilling is that the classes are on Fridays from 3 to 7!! Apparently so we don’t worry about the time, but I think four hours will make me worry more.
One final note for gardeners, mum, Tota brought home a thin seed shell pod thing, and told me to break it. Inside were three perfectly round black seeds with perfect white hearts that look as if they have been painted on the outside. A freak of nature called Amor en la Bolsa. I think. Anyway I was more interested in a plant then I have been for a while.
x
We have just finished giving all the grades the diagnostic test. One quarter of the 200 + students turned theirs in blank or practically. One girl burst into tears, she is in Septimo Basico, which is supposed to be after seven years of English, or at the very least three, and she couldn’t write sentences with I can and I can’t. The Octavo Basico were stumped by verbs such as read, drink, go, watch. We are currently teaching Octavo and Quinto the same things.
Now with that grim view there are a few exceptions. There are 1-3 boys in every class that are really excellent, bright and quick to grasp and remember things. However, those boys in Septimo and Octavo prefer to spend their time being clowns with the less intelligent, intensely irritating boys. As Carlos said yesterday, the 4th graders are more mature. There are more girls that are interested, especially in Octavo, but unfortunately the boys haven’t realized they would impress more of them if they weren’t crawling around under the desks and making animal sounds.
Pisco life continues, relaxed and uneventful. I have continued meeting more of Tota’s friends, playing with the children and swimming in the river where the other two volunteers live. I have had three meetings this week, one in Paihuano which lasted ten minutes and required a 50 minute round trip bus ride, and two in Monte Grande at the Casa de la Cultura. Monte Grande is far enough to make walking annoying and close enough to be a pointlessly expensive bus ride. Starting next week I will make the trip often as I am helping/attending a weaving course that they provide for the girls in Monte Grande. Apparently Monte Grande of all the villages is most at risk for continuing the uneducated cycle of the last hundreds of years. Many parents never finished Basico and many students look to follow in their parents’ footsteps.
I am thrilled about the weaving course, they have six giant looms, I am there to provide English help, a different viewpoint, I am not really sure. Less thrilling is that the classes are on Fridays from 3 to 7!! Apparently so we don’t worry about the time, but I think four hours will make me worry more.
One final note for gardeners, mum, Tota brought home a thin seed shell pod thing, and told me to break it. Inside were three perfectly round black seeds with perfect white hearts that look as if they have been painted on the outside. A freak of nature called Amor en la Bolsa. I think. Anyway I was more interested in a plant then I have been for a while.
x
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
First Impressions
I have been in the Elqui Valley for a week. I have had two pisco sours, have wanted to smack four 2nd graders, climbed one mountain, spent 14+ hours on a bus, and am writing looking at three of 3000 mountains.
Pisco is the furthest of moderate sized towns in the valley. The closest normal sized town is Vicuna an hour away and the closest city is La Serena two hours away by bus. Pisco, Montegrande and Paihuano have the three schools that volunteers are sent to and there are also tiny towns that volunteers get sent to once a week or so. Luckily for me I live in Pisco and work in the Escuela something something Godoy which is in Pisco. One of the other volunteers works in Paihuano and has to leave at 7:15 and the other one works in the satellite villages and has to travel all day between schools.
Most of the schools have new English teachers thanks to the Fundacion which is funded by the Valley’s wealthy man. My teacher Carlos used to teach at a private school where parents paid about 40,000 pesos a month (60 dollars) quite expensive from Chilean standards. He says the biggest difference is materials, i.e. he used to have them and now he doesn’t. I think he is a very good teacher with a lot of patience.
My first day I only had to go for assembly where I was introduced to the students, teachers and parents by the principal as the “senorita whose name I can not pronounce.” My first meeting with him he told me I had the face of a 15-year old, which does not give me a lot of confidence in my authority.
Chileans have as much trouble with my name as USA citizens. I have learned to say I am from Estados Unidos instead of America as I was quickly told they were from America too. I normally spend the first five minutes of class trying to teach the pronunciation of Imogen. The closest most get is eemohen. Mostly they find Miss easier.
I like working in Pisco because it means I am recognizable, not just enough strangely pale face. I get summons of Miss or Tia all the time from students, or La inglese from parents.
After being here a week Tota went to the beach with her daughter and a friend came to stay. Now Tota is back I am meeting many more people. There is a nice group of slightly hippy mostly single mothers. Their children go the Jardin, the Waldorf school, and they are a very nice support group for each other. Many live in Baquedano, a street that leads up away from the town. The nicest looking hostel is also in Baquedano, the owner is friend with everyone and today we went and picked figs, and Maria Tota’s daughter regularly goes to pick grapes.
All in all, after the first overwhelming feeling I was living in a complete foreign and incompatible society I have adjusted and am very happy. The adjustment most likely started when I figured out how to have hot water in the shower.
x
Pisco is the furthest of moderate sized towns in the valley. The closest normal sized town is Vicuna an hour away and the closest city is La Serena two hours away by bus. Pisco, Montegrande and Paihuano have the three schools that volunteers are sent to and there are also tiny towns that volunteers get sent to once a week or so. Luckily for me I live in Pisco and work in the Escuela something something Godoy which is in Pisco. One of the other volunteers works in Paihuano and has to leave at 7:15 and the other one works in the satellite villages and has to travel all day between schools.
Most of the schools have new English teachers thanks to the Fundacion which is funded by the Valley’s wealthy man. My teacher Carlos used to teach at a private school where parents paid about 40,000 pesos a month (60 dollars) quite expensive from Chilean standards. He says the biggest difference is materials, i.e. he used to have them and now he doesn’t. I think he is a very good teacher with a lot of patience.
My first day I only had to go for assembly where I was introduced to the students, teachers and parents by the principal as the “senorita whose name I can not pronounce.” My first meeting with him he told me I had the face of a 15-year old, which does not give me a lot of confidence in my authority.
Chileans have as much trouble with my name as USA citizens. I have learned to say I am from Estados Unidos instead of America as I was quickly told they were from America too. I normally spend the first five minutes of class trying to teach the pronunciation of Imogen. The closest most get is eemohen. Mostly they find Miss easier.
I like working in Pisco because it means I am recognizable, not just enough strangely pale face. I get summons of Miss or Tia all the time from students, or La inglese from parents.
After being here a week Tota went to the beach with her daughter and a friend came to stay. Now Tota is back I am meeting many more people. There is a nice group of slightly hippy mostly single mothers. Their children go the Jardin, the Waldorf school, and they are a very nice support group for each other. Many live in Baquedano, a street that leads up away from the town. The nicest looking hostel is also in Baquedano, the owner is friend with everyone and today we went and picked figs, and Maria Tota’s daughter regularly goes to pick grapes.
All in all, after the first overwhelming feeling I was living in a complete foreign and incompatible society I have adjusted and am very happy. The adjustment most likely started when I figured out how to have hot water in the shower.
x
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