Que será, será

I'm supposed to have Educación Ambiental (Environmental Education) every Monday and Friday. However, the first day of class the professor informed us that there wouldn't be class on Friday that week. So, she scheduled a makeup class for today - Wednesday August 29th.

After lunch I went up the hill to the classroom where we were supposed to have the clase de recuperación, only to find that I was the only one there. At first I attributed that to the fact that I was a couple minutes early - people usually wander in to class late right after lunch. The professor walked by just when class was about to start, but as it turns out, she was headed to her office, which is situated right across from the classroom. She asked me if I had gotten the email about class being cancelled. Whoops. Nope, I had not.

I'm still not officially enrolled in any classes, which means that I don't have access to the online platform used for class lists, posting homework, etc. A bit of a bummer sometimes. Maybe next week. (That's what I started saying two weeks ago.)

It's common to go to class and find it cancelled. Things just seem to be a bit more disorganized than I'm used to. Class has moved? Mkay. No class? okie dokie. (I needed something done by yesterday? No worries.) It's really easy to just go with the flow here.

Que será, será, as Doris Day would say.

Language Pledge

Today I went into Coquimbo again for my práctica (internship) at Científicos de la Basura. This week I got some more guidance about my task: I'm charged with the challenge of bringing a specific American to be the keynote speaker at the Congreso Nacional Escolar de la Basura en el Medio Ambiente (National Student Convention of Environmental Waste Pollution is my best guess at a translation) and raising funds to cover the costs of this guest's travel, accommodations, etc. by approaching American companies/organizations.

When I am drafting letters and emails to people and companies, I write in English, since these are targeted to Americans. This made me think about the Language Pledge that I took when I signed up for the Middlebury study abroad program.

The language pledge states:

To take fullest advantage of my time abroad, I will maintain the spirit of the Middlebury Language Pledge to speak only the language that I am studying. I understand that no English is to be used in the School’s offices, except in emergency consultations with the Director and his or her staff. I recognize that the Language Pledge plays a major role in the success of the academic, social, and personal dimensions of my time abroad, both as a symbol of commitment and as an essential part of the language learning process, as proven by the successes of the summer Language Schools. I understand that speaking the target language with other students on the program as well as with locals will help me focus my energies on the acquisition of the language and internalize the patterns of communication and the cultural perspectives associated with the language. 

Violation of the Language Pledge deprives me and my fellow students of a valuable opportunity. By signing this, I agree to abide by the Middlebury College Language Pledge.

Technically, the assignment for my práctica is breaking the Language Pledge. However, the Director of the program is aware of this - and, in fact, arranged the internship for me. I haven't spoken English yet at the práctica, which might change as coordinating with companies grows to include phone calls as well as emails and letters. Nonetheless, I am writing in English.

What is the difference, though, between writing in English for my internship and writing in English here on my blog? Why is the latter allowed? Also allowed: maintaining contact with family/friends from home in English, listening to music in English. Am I hindering my Chilean immersion experience with any of these activities?

Perhaps a bit, but I don't think by any large amount. My immersion is pretty complete - I'm living with a Chilean family, taking classes in Spanish at the local university, and there's only one other American studying in the city. If I spent all of my free time talking with people from home, that would be a different story - needless to say, I don't. I think that the Language Pledge is much more important for Middlebury's summer language schools, since there's less immersion and more temptation to break the pledge (because you are still in an overall American environment).

As for music, a lot of the music that I hear has lyrics in English. I still hear Call Me Maybe at least once a week :).

It was a foggy morning outside Universidad Católica del Norte

The fog usually clears out by the afternoon, though.

Stats

I do not understand this. I've only given the link to the blog out to about 10 people, none of whom are in Russia (to my knowledge). Why do I have so many Russian viewers?

[In Soviet Russia, blog reads you?]

Here's to Now

My facebook newsfeed doesn't let me forget that school is starting at Bowdoin - the Outing Club posted pictures of pre-orientation preparations, Bowdoin College posted photos of freshmen moving in, and many of my friends are updating their locations and posting statuses about heading back to school.

It makes me really wish I could be there for the start of school. Partially that's because I'm feeling nostalgia for freshman year, when everybody is nervous and thrilled at the same time. The best part about it is that you are so unabashedly open - to making friends (with everyone), going on spontaneous adventures, and turning a new space into your home.

Definitely some nostalgia, but I'm also afraid of missing out on everything amazing that's happening. I wish I could lead a Pre-O, get to know the freshmen, and have the joy of seeing friends after a long summer break. I could fill my journal with things that I'll miss not being able to do this fall at Bowdoin.

Then I realized that I'm already busy filling my journal - with things that are making me happy to be here. And I've found that one of my favorite things about studying abroad so far is the openness that it forces upon me, just like freshman year. I'm in the same nervous/excited/making-friends mode as I was freshman year (the big difference is that because it's second semester here, nobody else is, haha. except perhaps the other exchange students, of which there are fewer than 10). And I love it here! As sad as I am that I'm not Bowdoin-bound this semester, I know that when I return to Maine next semester, I'll feel the same way about not being settled in La Serena. (does that sentence make sense? it does to me, at least.)

As a freshman, every upperclassman you ask for advice from tells you, "Enjoy it! It passes by so quickly that it's over before you know it." Not surprisingly, my friends who have studied abroad say the exact same thing about spending a semester in another country. That's the sort of counsel that isn't just applied to a semester of school, though - it's sage life advice that everybody can learn from.

And so, I wish my friends at Bowdoin a wonderful semester. And to my other friends and family reading this, whatever you may be doing, I hope you enjoy it!

Here's to now :).

[incidentally, this is a great song that I first heard during pre-o week last year]

Disclaimer

I realized I should probably post a disclaimer of some sort, so here goes:

Sorry if my blog posts are not altogether frequent - I'm also keeping a journal, which is both more thorough and more personal. When I decide to blog I often don't want to write about the same thing twice, so this online account of my experience might seem patchy.

Also, as my Spanish improves, I fully expect my ability to speak English to decline... This is already evidenced by my deteriorating crossword abilities :/. I apologize in advance.

Coquimbo

Today was my first solo trip to Coquimbo. I went last week on Friday with Jeff, Pame, and Maca. Jeff and Pame are Middlebury Program staff, and this week they were traveling to each of the (5?) cities where students are studying to check in on everybody - making sure that their host families and houses are going well so far, meeting with internship companies/organizations to maintain the Middlebury relationship and facilitate students' work there, etc.

Last Friday afternoon, after going to the Policía de Investigaciones and the Registro Civil to start the process of getting my Chilean ID, the four of us went to Coquimbo, the city ~20 minutes away, to meet with the folks over at Científicos de la Basura. We took a colectivo (collective taxi) there, had a pretty quick meeting, and then I took the micro back. [Easier said than done.]

Each Tuesday, from now on, I'll be traveling to Coquimbo for my práctica (internship/work) at Científicos de la Basura. The office is on the campus of Universidad Católica del Norte, which is quite beautiful. My primary task, from what I can tell, is to search for companies (ideally with ties to the US, so that I can approach American companies, too) who might donate money to offset the costs of the convention that the organization is hosting in November. So, for a few hours I researched businesses and reviewed information about the convention, and soon it was time for lunch.

I went with Vivian, an employee at Científicos, to the equivalent of a dining hall on campus (a casino). We were going to a school at 2:00 to help a class of seventh-graders create a play that they will perform at the convention in November (using only recycled materials for props!). Since it's a half hour walk from the dining hall to the school, we figured we should leave at 1:30. However, after making photocopies of a small book and eating, we were running late... That is what we call tiempo chileno*. In the US you often arrive to things "fashionably late," which means about 10 minutes late (or if it's a party, an hour late/whatever you want to do). Here, people are routinely 30-60 minutes late for normal activities. Whereas I would have hurried to finish lunch quickly and walk quickly, Vivian didn't mind at all when she noticed we were running behind schedule. On our way to the school we took a wrong turn and ended up going on a roundabout route (which really turned about my sense of direction), but even still we didn't hurry. We were probably about 20 minutes late by the time we arrived, (the teacher was 20 minutes later than we were, however).

After the short play-making session (Vivian and I didn't do much; the theater teacher was running the show), Vivian was headed to a Mapudungun workshop. Mapudungun is the language of the Mapuche, an indigenous group. I was going to head back to La Serena, which meant I had to take a micro (line #2 ).

I knew where I hoped this t̶r̶a̶i̶n̶ bus would take me, but I didn't know for sure. Vivian showed me to a supermarket where she thought the 2 stopped, and headed on her way. I asked someone also waiting outside the supermarket if the 2 went this way and they thought for a moment, then said it did. I waited for five to ten minutes, during which three 1s passed by and at least two 3s. A bit perplexed, I asked a new person waiting at the supermarket if the 2 stopped there. The woman shook her head gravely and said it only stopped "up there," pointing back up in the direction of the Científicos office. I looked disappointed, and then she had a minor revelation. "No, no! Actually, it stops two blocks down, I think." She repeated what she said, mimed, and pointed to make sure I understood - I thanked her and walked over.

Two blocks over, I asked someone to confirm that the 2 did, indeed, stop there, but they didn't know. I asked another person and they said yes. Phew! So, I waited again. After waiting a good five minutes, plenty of other micros had passed by (including a 2 that went whizzing by with no sign of stopping). The woman looked at me apologetically and said, "Maybe the 2 doesn't stop here... But you know what? I know where it does stop. Walk two blocks that way, and it definitely stops there." However, she was pointing in the direction I had come from. I thanked her and headed off. Instead of waiting at the supermarket again, though, I wandered in the direction that I thought led towards the Universidad Católica del Norte campus. Thankfully, I wasn't fully turned around, so I made it to known territory and went to a street corner where I knew the micro stopped. Sure enough, in under 5 minutes I was on the 2 headed to La Serena.


I promise I'll take pictures soon. I'm horrible at remembering to bring my camera. That sounds too negative... I'm great at forgetting my camera!

*Of course, tiempo chileno is not really specific to Chile. I've found this loose treatment of time to be the case in other countries that I've traveled to as well. I much prefer it to the strictly regimented schedules of the US - perhaps I'll write more about this later.

This post was originally going to be about the concept of saying no, but in titling it I was reminded that a few days ago Will, Maca (our "cultural mentor" here in La Serena), and I went to see a movie in "the mall". The film was called, "No," and it focuses on the advertising campaign that helped urge the public to vote against Pinochet, the dictator. I liked it overall, despite the dizzying film style that was very headache-inducing. It was a powerful piece, and there remarkably little bias given its topic. There were a few times when everybody in the theater laughed at some joke that went over my head, but I understood the vast majority of what was going on (which I found impressive!).

Back to my musings on the general concept of "no," though. During the whirlwind that was orientation, Jeff explained that Chileans don't like to say no.

Now, I also don't like to say no. One of my friends has joked that she could hold a workshop for me so that I could learn to say no and practice doing so. However, I do say no sometimes. If it makes me uncomfortable to say yes, or if there's no honest way I could say yes, then I won't.

It's a little different here. Jeff told us that Chileans will go to great lengths to avoid saying no, in general. He gave us great examples, but as per usual, I forgot exactly what they were.

Here are two examples (based off of Jeff's, I think...):

• Let's assume you asked someone to send you something and were asking if it was ready. If it wasn't ready, they would not admit it. Instead, they might say, "yes, of course, I'll send it al tiro." For those who don't know, al tiro means immediately. However, this phrase doesn't mean that they are actually about to send you something. It could indicate that they'll send it along in five minutes, an hour, or possibly days.
• You are trying to find xxxx and ask a Chilean for directions. They don't know where it is, but direct you anyway. (this could be based off of one of Jeff's examples, or I could just be basing it off of my experience getting lost today. see next post for details!)

I think the cultural significance of this is profound. At the core of this aversion to saying no is the desire to not disappoint. This can be understood in multiple ways. Some might see this desire for harmony as evidence for a culture of people who want to avoid disagreement, and therefore negative judgement. It represents a conformist attitude, demonstrating that there is more emphasis on and value for collective views rather than individual opinions.

However, I think that while there is certainly some truth to that outlook, the "no" aversion at its root implies a high level of social awareness - a value for other people's feelings that I don't notice as much in the US culture. I choose to take this positive attitude toward this sometimes frustrating cultural habit because that's what my experience here so far has led me to believe. So many people, ranging from my host mom to the man I sat next to on the micro (bus), genuinely care about whether I like their city, whether I've been making friends, and whether I'm finding it hard to adjust. I find that in the US there's an overemphasis on the individual - so many people are just looking out for themselves. Chilean culture has much more value on interpersonal relations, which is refreshing.


((After having seen No, I'm more aware of the massive cultural statement that the vote against Pinochet represented.))

Edit:
I found this article interesting.

El faro

Disclaimer: probablemente hay errores. no, sin duda hay errores.

para los que no son hispanohablantes... google translate?

Después de nuestros clases Will y yo fuimos al centro para almorzar, y más tarde, al faro para ver el mar. Era más lejos que anticipábamos, pero me gustó el camino, conversando en español terrible con el (¿sólo?) otro norteamericano en La Serena. La vista es tan linda, con las olas pasando - también puedo verla desde mi casa, lejos unas millas. En la playa parecía como la vida había más lenta. Cuando el sol brillaba había menos fria (pero todavía había viento). Había unos surfistas, pero es invierno aqui, así que no había mucha gente en la playa.

Paseamos a la orilla del mar por un rato, y encontramos unos columpios. Después de columpiar un poco, hicimos la mayoría de un crucigrama. Will era el escritor, y cuando pensé de una palabra, traté de explicarlo en castellano (aqui los chilenos no dicen español - hablan castellano). Luego subimos la colina hacia la universidad para andar a nuestras casas.

Una foto -

(No es mía, porque todavía no he sacado fotos de La Serena.)

Lo' loco'

Today is my first day with my host family - my mom, Jeannette, and her daughter, Valentina. For lunch, we were joined by three others - Jeanette's boyfriend, Sergio, his two sons, Pablo and Ignacio.

The first mishap occurred when Jeannette asked me if I wanted to help make a certain Brazilian drink we would be having with lunch. I chopped up lots of little lemons, put them in a pitcher, and started mashing them with a pestle, then Jeannette started adding sugar. In English people say "tell me when" to indicate when they should stop pouring/serving - I think she asked me the equivalent in Spanish, but I didn't understand. So, she added a lot of sugar. Then I made a bit more lemon juice, and she added the alcohol (cachaça) and some ice, and after mixing we let it sit until lunch was ready (~30 min). During lunch, there were a few comments about how "rico" it was (rich/sweet), and this is when I realized that Jeannette had asked me to tell her when to stop pouring the sugar... oops. It tasted good to me, at least.

Jeannette and I had somehow happened upon the topic of lobster earlier, but I couldn't remember the word. So she brought it up again at lunch so that more brains could help think of the food that's "red and lives in the ocean," (my excellent description). Eventually I was able to tell them that it was like a large shrimp, and then they all knew what I was talking about but also couldn't remember the word. After a minute or two, Pablo realized it was a "langosta", and we were all happy. Then Sergio and I mentioned that we didn't particularly like lobster. So they asked me if I liked "marico." I had no idea what that meant, so I just looked confused, and someone asked me if I knew what "marico" were, and I answered in the negative. But when Sergio started to describe them, he said "mariscos", and then I had my "aha!" moment. I said eloquently, "si, si, si, ¡mariscos! claro."

The Chilean accent got me again - los chilenos drop their esses. So, they pronounce "los chilenos" more like this: "lo chileno." "Es lo mismo" becomes "E lo mimo." Hard to get used to. Except it's not exactly like the "s"es are just dropped - they're aspirated instead.

Here is what I thought happened next:
Jeannette asked me if I liked "los locos" (prepared for the accent now, I realized that "lo loco" was in fact "los locos"). I seemed confused, so Sergio repeated the question asking if I liked to eat with the crazies. He asked if I knew what los locos meant, saying "los locos? 'the cray-sees'?" I said yes, and was perplexed. Were they making fun of the weird eating habits of los EEUU? I knew that Jeanette thought it very strange that I usually only ate a sandwich for lunch. In Chile, the biggest meal of the day is lunch, and dinner is very late (~10, I'd say) and light - if eaten at all. Or, as my family does, you can also have "once" (spanish for 11), which is not a meal at 11:00 as you would think, but a meal around 7:00 or 8:00pm. Anyway, they asked again if I liked eating with "los locos," describing them as having a shell and living in the ocean... Then they explained that lo loco were a type of marico. Aha. As it turns out, los locos are a type of Chilean snail. They had been asking if I liked to eat los locos - not eat with them.

Anyway, I was pleasantly full after the first course (meat, celery, and palta wrapped in deli meat - like a burrito - with more celery and some olives on the side), which I originally thought was all there was to eat. After all, we had already had appetizers (Doritos, potato chips, and guac...) I was thinking that that wasn't such a huge lunch when Jeanette brought out a giant bowl of pasta with two types of sauce - crema y aceituna, y tomate y carne. I chose the tomato meat sauce, and then was incredibly full. After, there was also dessert (durazno con crema - peaches and cream), which I couldn't say no to.

The food was all delicious though, so being full wasn't that bad.

El otro Niko

Abby told me to look for Niko - and so, I did. After going through security I was waiting at my gate reading Harry Potter y el misterio del principe when I remembered to look for Niko. Niko is a fellow Middlebury Study Abroad Program participant, and though I had never met him, he knows Abby from Middlebury. To be honest, I was mostly banking on the fact that he would recognize me because he knew Abby. I looked for around for the description I had been given - an Asian boy wearing glasses, a little taller than me - and sure enough, in the row of seats adjacent to mine there was a vaguely Asian-looking kid with glasses. He was sitting with his back to me, so I couldn't discern his exact facial features or his height, but he seemed college-age and definitely had glasses.

"Are you Niko?" I ventured hesitantly. He looked over, surprised, and said "Yes, Nico." I smiled in relief - company! We both stood up, and I introduced myself.

"Hi, I'm Zoe. You know my twin, Abby Karp, from Middlebury. She said to say hi!" I shook his hand, wondering why he looked a bit perplexed. "Where are you studying in Chile?"

"Universidad del Desarrollo," he replied. "Huh, where do I know her..."

I responded with the requisite, "Cool," adding that I was studying in La Serena. He had a Spanish accent of some sort, which made me envious. He seemed like he would be fluent in Spanish. He seemed like he wanted to sit down, so I motioned for him to join me. Nico obliged, still musing, "How do I know Zoe..."

"No, Abby!" I corrected him. "I'm Zoe - you would know my sister, Abby."
"Oh, oh, right. Abby... I don't think I know her."
"You are Niko, right?
"Nicolás, but I go by Nico, yes. I still can't think of an Abby."
"Huh. What are you studying?"
"Engineering."
"Oh cool! [I definitely overuse "cool".] So do you know Will? Will Lones? He studies architecture, and maybe engineering."

Poor Nico looked quite mystified. I clarified - "He's also studying in Chile with our program. He'll be in La Serena."

Nico seemed a bit sketched out. At this point, I was feeling a bit embarrassed for Abby - it's always awkward when you think you're mutually acquainted but it turns out they don't remember you. She must have overstated the extent of their relationship. I said I would ask Abby the context from which she knew him, and he seemed relieved. I called Abby, and after short hellos, I asked how she knew Niko. She asked if I had found him, and I said yes, but he didn't remember her. She said, "We had Spanish class together!"

I relayed this to him, and Nico's brows furrowed and he shook his head. To Abby, I said, "Nope." So she added, "I always talked with Ryan."

I tried this one out on Nico. "She always talked with Ryan? Ryan Brewster?" He grinned sheepishly accompanied by a shrug, saying he still couldn't think of an Abby.

At this point, Abby laughs, and informs me, "Bo, you must have the wrong Niko!"

That's right, folks. I have not been randomly misspelling Niko. I had found Nico, but I was supposed to find Niko.

So I turned to Nico and asked, "Wait, where do you go to school...?" And of course, he answered, "Universidad del Desarrollo."

I felt like a fool. I apologized a lot, saying that I had found the wrong Niko. I explained the confusion, and we both laughed. We chatted for a while, and Chilean-Nico was remarkably unfazed by my randomly knowing his name and having a conversation with him. He's from Santiago, and in his second year studying engineering at his university. He spoke English fluently because for years he went to an international school in Austria. He was in the US to visit his older brother in Chicago for two weeks.

He told me about a bit of Chilean slang, saying that I could recognize if someone was a native Chilean speaker because they'd say "weon" every other word. [A Chilean equivalent of dude and/or a way to say anything.] He gave me travel tips on places to visit and the best times to do so. He was really quite friendly, but I still felt the need to keep apologizing for my mistake randomly throughout the conversation. We talked for about 15 minutes more (with me randomly interspersing Spanish words into dialogue to get a bit of last-minute practice in).

When rows were being called, we got up to board. Walking over to the line, I saw a kid with glasses who definitely looked more Asian than Nico. I didn't really want to ask if this kid was also Niko, in fear of finding another Niko imposter. However, as Nico got in line and I waited for my row to be called, I asked. Lo and behold! The correct Niko. A more normal introductory conversation ensued.

The adventures are beginning!