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.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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
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