“Galope, Miss Ohio. Galope!” urged my riding instructor in a
confusing mix of English and Spanish. Aiming my horse for the jump, I wondered
to myself what I was doing here. I was in a ring with six other riders on a
horse that took one look at a jump and took off like a bat out of hell before
flinging himself over it blindly. I had tried to tell my instructor earlier
that I had jumped some before, but I was mostly a dressage rider. If I jumped,
it was over a hunter course – a type of jumping that judges you on how nicely
and steadily you can go over a fence and how pretty you can make it look, not
so much a true “jumper” that was all about speed and anything goes, really, as
long as you make it over the fence the fastest. I had tried to explain that,
but his English wasn’t every good and my Spanish was about as good as his
English - he seemed to think I would do just fine. Without further ado, I was
plopped on a horse (no release forms or any sort of boring U.S. type of
paperwork) and off we went. One small jump in and he raised it about three
feet. He had trouble pronouncing my name, but knew that I was from Ohio, so he
just went with that as he urged me to try the course one more time. Was I
having fun or was I just so petrified the adrenaline made it feel similar to
fun? Looking back, I feel like my entire month spent in Chile felt like that.
Petrifying and confusing and so unbelievably awesome.
A quick snapshot of one of my riding lessons in Chile
Me and Calafate after a lesson - he was such a great horse!
I was halfway through college when I realized that I had
enough time to try to minor in something. I had always wanted to learn another
language and had enjoyed Spanish in high school, so with two years left in
college I set out to learn as much Spanish as I could. About two classes into
my Spanish minor, our professor, or “profe” as we liked to call her, announced that
she was getting together another group of students to go to her home country of
Chile with her for winter break. Profe was one of my favorites, she was easy
going but didn’t let you fool around in class, she was always was excited and
full of energy, and was genuinely a nice person. Later I came to realize, a
typical Chilean. Attending a
liberal arts college, our winter break was actually a month long – starting for
Thanksgiving and ending after New Years. I would have to get a loan and squeeze
in some extra tutor sessions, but it sounded like an adventure. After class
that day, I approached her and told her I would like to go, but I was worried
about my Spanish speaking ability (I was pretty terrible) she said there would
be no problem and she would make sure my host family knew English as well.
Two months later, one hell of an expensive plane ride to
Santiago, one club-hopping weekend in the city, and a 12-hour bus ride that I
could not fall asleep on at all, and I found myself in my new home away from
home for a month. My host parents did not speak English. Not even a little bit.
Talk about an awkward dinner conversation, I finally figured out that my host
dad had asked what my parents do after about 4 tries and he kind of squinted
his eyes and looked at me funny as I tried to tell him my dad was an architect.
My host sister was younger than me and attending a school that taught all in
English, but she had not been attending there for long. The idea was that I
would teach her English and she would teach me Spanish. After that miserable
and awkward dinner, I retreated to my room in which I fell asleep wondering
what I had gotten myself into.
My host sister and I while out exploring the coast
The truth is, you learn to adapt. No matter how bad or
impossible you think the situation you are in is, you always can adapt and go
with it. I loved everything about that month in Chile. The second I stopped
worrying about what people thought of my terrible Spanish or how the day was
going to turn out, was the second that I could pay more attention to the
scenery around me and the wonderful people I was meeting. I still remember the
first night I went to the discothèque and was out until 4am. Some friends from
the school we were attending during the week dropped me off in front of my host
house and I cringed as I had to ring the bell for them to open the gate and let
me in the house. Waiting for a grumpy and/or angry host mom or dad to open the
front door for me, I was surprised to see my host dad swing the door open and
spread open his arms, an enormous grin on his face. My rough translation of
what he said was something along the lines of “Why are you back so early?”
Our group at the base of the active Volcano in Pucon, Chile
Everyone I met in Chile was friendly and seemed genuinely
happy. The next morning I overslept my alarm and woke up with 4 minutes before
I had to leave for school (luckily we only were a 10 minute walk away and
everyone in Chile is always late – even to school! If a party starts at 8pm, we
would have dinner at 8, go shopping at 9 and then probably get to the party
sometime around 10. School started at 8am, and we regularly arrived around
8:20). Anyway, so I am terribly late (and quite frankly, hung over) and rush
out of my bedroom, shoving stuff into my bag and frantically tell my host mom I
am ready to leave. She is surprised and said she thought I would want to sleep
more since I was out partying all night. But I had to go to class, I tried to
explain. Shrugging at my crazy American ways, she put out some cookies for me
to eat while I walked and told me to have a good day. And yes, Chileans, who are
as a whole, way skinnier than most Americans, eat cookies and cake for almost
every breakfast. After a few classes (in which there is a snack break in
between), I walk back home with my host sister to eat an enormous and always
delicious lunch, take a siesta and then walk back for a few more classes. Lunch
one day was called “crudos” and it was a raw meat paste on toast, topped with
lemon juice and tartar sauce, and you know what, it was am-ma-zing. Everyone in
the family comes home for lunch – that is the big meal of the day. What a
wonderful break it was to relax and talk and recoup before going out for the
afternoon. Dinner was late, around 10pm, and was usually some more cake or
sometimes bread. The one time I told them at 10pm I was going to go to bed they
were so confused, they were like “for the night or are you coming back out
later?”
Chileans definitely do not take life too seriously. My profe
was from Valdivia, were we stayed for most of the trip, and she was busy
visiting old friends and family, so she was basically MIA. It was up to us to
figure things out. Its amazing how quickly you learn a language when you
realize that if you don’t, you will not be able to do anything – no getting a
taxi, no ordering food, no talking to anyone around you. They soon had us
touring local elementary schools in which we were separated into classrooms and
the teachers announced that we would be teaching class for the day. Wait?!
What?! I learned quickly that Chileans aren’t really big planners and kind of
take things as they come – so what do you do, adapt and attempt to teach this
class or panic and freeze up? Teaching a class full of elementary students is
way more fun! Did they learn anything from me? Probably not. But I bet I was
pretty good entertainment. I had about 20 groupies during recess, a 10 year old
boy asked me on a date, and I made a little girl cry tears of happiness when I
read them “The Little Mermaid” in terrible, stumbling Spanish.
An overview of the last city we visited before heading to the airport for home - Vina Del Mar
By night I was getting a hang of the taxi system and
learning where and where not I could walk to (Chile is very nice, but all the
nice houses have tall fences around them with locked gates –I am only assuming
there is a reason for that). The bars and discothèques in the area were over
the top (one was seven levels) and always served up my new favorite drink –
piscola: a mixture of Pisco (a type of Chilean alcohol) and coke. The other
popular drink was the Pisco sour (which has now come to the U.S., but is not
always made in the true Chilean way). My host family had this wonderful little
cabin in the mountains next to the coast where we would go to have asada (meat
roasted on a stick over a fire pit – in Chile you did not have a grill, you had
an asada. It was a matter of pride between families on who had a better asada.
It sounds simple, but these asadas were often inside the house and were a big
deal to have. And man, was the food amazing!). At the cabin, they also taught
me how to make a traditional pisco sour (lots of ice, lime juice, and some
sugar and shake it in with the pisco). What a cool experience that was –
hanging out with my Chilean family and all their friends, drinking pisco sours
and eating asada in their cabin that overlooked the mountains!
Learning how to make Pisco Sours
I was finally comfortable and well adjusted when our profe
showed up to take us on our promised four day trip to Argentina. Without
further ado, we were shoved in a van and taken via bumpy dirt roads to the
boarder. Passing through the isolated border station, we proceeded to make our
way through the Andes. We started off with beautiful jungles, landscapes, and
waterfalls and soon we found ourselves driving into snow coated roads and
blowing winds. At the official country line, we stopped for a picture. “But I
have sandals on,“ I told my profe as she told us to go outside and stand by the
sign. “No, no that’s ok,” she said cheerfully as she shoved me out into the
snow. One snowball fight and some slight frostbite later, we were back on the
road and almost to Argentina.
Just one of the everyday views that greeted you in Bariloche, Argentina
My first experience in Argentina was at a snowboard shop
that I had found while walking down the street. A nice girl came up to me and
asked me if I need any help. I stared at her dumbly for about a minute and then
walked away. It was only while I was browsing through the coats did I realize
what she had said! An argentine accent was much different than a Chilean accent
– especially since my Chilean wasn’t that good in the first place. Thankfully I
picked it up fairly quickly after that and that night was able to order my
first drink. I asked for something that was popular in Argentina, and the
bartender gave me fernet. Fernet is some sort of alcohol made out of artichokes
(I have only found it once in the states – in Baltimore and the bartender there
told me that it was once used back in the day as a type of digestive aid or
medicine, so you can imagine how it tastes.) It was very bitter and pretty
disgusting, but I drank it anyway and when the friend I was with could not
finish his, I bragged how much tougher I was. Which led to the bet that I had
to drink fernet and only fernet all weekend long. I have to admit, I ate a lot
of fruit and showered with my mouth open, but I did it. And you know what, I
really like fernet now. My Spanish also gets exponentially better if I have
been drinking.
Just down the street from our hotel, we found this sunken pier and I couldn't resist! It was a cloudy day, but it felt like you were standing in the middle of an ocean with the waves crashing around you and the towering Andes in the distance.
If there was a moral to this whole story, I am not sure what
it would be. I guess the point was to share a few fun stories and show you that
it is
fun to go out of your comfort level and experience new places, people, and
cultures. You learn so much more about people when you have to actually
concentrate on the conversation and truly listen to them – and not just what
they are saying, but what their body language is saying too. You will be
pleasantly surprised when you go out of your comfort zone. I have always been
petrified of boats and rafts ever since my uncle tipped mine when I was
younger. I went whitewater rafting in Chile – I actually got willingly into the
raft! Even after a 20 minute tutorial in Spanish on what to do if you fall out
of the raft or if we tipped!
Found this bar in the airport before heading back to the U.S. and couldn't resist getting this photo!
I met so many amazing people and had the most wonderful
time. It was something I will never forget and something I will always want to
go back to. Even in my darkest hours of the trip, like on my 12 hour bus ride
where I could not sleep or returning to Chile after drinking Fernet for an
entire weekend, something so amazing would happen that made me question if I
was even still in this world. During that long bus ride, I watched an entire
lunar eclipse through my window. I watched the moon as it hung over the endless
valley and distant mountains as it changed from white to orange to blood red
and back again. Driving back from Chile, the car I was in got lost and we had
to stop and wait. We were literally in the middle of nowhere, somewhere past
the Chilean border. We all got out of the car and just looked up at the sky and
you know what? The entire universe was above us. I had never seen the southern
sky – the amount of stars was memorizing and just seeing the sky stretch out
before you like that took your breath away. It is easy to get caught up in the
little things, like jobs and money and relationships and wondering if you are
fitting in. To just take a few minutes (or 12 sleepless hours) to stand back
and appreciate something so much bigger than you, bigger than the world as you
know it, bigger than simple comprehension, to come back down to earth and
settle into yourself again after that is almost reassuring. We don’t have it
all figured out, everything is not always perfect or comfortable, but always
just take a moment to appreciate it – no matter what your situation is.
