speaking in tongues - updated!

Update:

I saw this while walking home today and laughed out loud. Yet more photographic proof of my linguistic foibles-----------------------------------

When I left the states, Brendan informed me that he was eagerly awaiting a blog post, detailing the myriad of ways that I would be mis-using the language down here. I've put off writing this until I had a little collection for you all. I must say that rather than embarrass myself in a classic sense, I find that I'm constantly not taking the time to read simple things like street signs and the like. We've been in this apartment just over a week and the street I walk up and down every day is San Isidro. It wasn't until two days ago, that Cait and I started noticing the butchering that we've been giving road names. We've been calling this street San Isidoro (ee-see-doh-roh). Immediately, it was clear that in the effort to not put our feet in our mouths...we've been screwing up these small things. Even more clearly was that we were screwing them up in a way that fits into a stereotypical spanglish translation just throw an oro, ita, ito, ella on it!

That said, I have had some outstanding moments of poor translation. While looking for our first apartment, we were trying to make conversation with the awkward woman who was playing her seduction music for us. I was trying to compliment the few things we liked about the place, and told her that I loved "this month right here, it's so nice!" mesa = table mes=month That was a pretty innocent, but was only a harbinger of how this dangerous behavior was going to affect me.

The next two instances happened while I was talking to our landlord, Nelson. He was over at our apartment with a contractor, fixing our blinds. The running joke of the evening was my poor spanish and that they could say whatever they pleased. From the kitchen, I heard him laughing with the repairman and was desperate to jump in... as if I understood. I had heard him say the word "punta" and ran with it. The next five minutes were spent trying to describe what punta/puta mean as swear words, and that he'd been calling me one to see if I was listening. Turns out, he was referring to the tip of the curtain rod...punta = tip

Finally and possibly the best, was while signing the contract for our apartment. We were sitting at a table at a lovely sidewalk cafe with Nelson. Getting down to business, I thought I'd help things out by asking Nelson if he needed a pen to sign the contracts with. Watching Nelson and Cait break down in laughter was not in my plan so I asked what was so funny. They explained that pene in spanish is penis. I had, fairly loudly on a street corner, asked my new landlord... "do you want a penis, because I have one for you?" Needless to say, I've become less adventurous with guessing at the spanish language. Hiking in the national park the next day, I was presented with a little proof that, what I said really wasn't appropriate...in the form of good old fashioned graffiti.

an avocado as big as a pineapple

planes, trains and automobiles

Scott and I went on a magical trip last weekend. A guy I met through the program down here asked if we'd like to tag along, sure- why not? We met Rob at a transantiago metro stop/bus combo deal early on Saturday morning. We found him at the Tur-Bus booth struggling with an employee... "Iremos al Olmue?" I jumped in to help with my imperfect Spanish. We found out the first step was to get to Viña del Mar (a trip I had taken two weeks earlier). From there, he scrawled on a piece of paper, we would take "1° Norte bus." Then, he walks us all the way to the end of a platform where a bus will take us to the other terminal where we can actually get on the bus for Viña. Ok cool.

So we get to neighboring city Viña (an hour and a half away from Santiago) and find no one who knows of this Norte bus. Instead we're directed to the metro which we firstly need to find and then once we do we learn it is like 5X as expensive as the transantiago metro. At that point I took a moment to appreciate Santiago, smog and all. We jump on the train and take it into the rolling landscape of the neighboring city (Valparaíso). At the very last stop (Limache) we get off (Picture starting point- city underground- end point is the country). At this juncture we are lead to believe (through infrequent communication with other gringos via telefono) that we need to take at least one bus through Olmue. Great we can do this.
* One thing you must know about buses here- first of all, there a couple different kinds- Santiago seems to have two major kinds- troncales y alimentadores- troncales are what you might guess are "truncated" with a piece connected in the middle (making them huge). Alimentadores are of regular length but substantially newer and hold more occupants than a general colectivo. Colectivos are family-run maybe? and definitely exist in smaller towns and cities on a pretty extensive scale. These buses, different than the other two might have the dad driving, a child collecting money and giving out tickets and the rest of the family might be hanging out for a bit in the front row.

Anyway, we see a ton of colectivos at the train station and a man tells us to "ese bus, acá."
* Note- depending on who you talk to- acá is an everywhere, completely all-encompassing locational term in Chile.

So we get on, not paying the driver because we have no idea where the hell we're going. After getting to talk a Chilean dude who says he'll tell us when to get off for "La Campana- El Parque Nacional." (I'm thinking- yes, finally that's exactly where we're going). What was funny was for a minute I was pretty sure he wanted me to give him money for the information which is a pretty uncommon thing in Chile, but I was in the countryside now so I wasn't sure how things worked here for us gringos. This guy's wife starts telling us to be careful at the top of the cerro (hill) we're about to climb because people die quite frequently as the trail narrows off pretty steeply at the top; it is easy to lose footing and fall. In fact, she says an American girl died there last year.

The man grins, pointing to our friend Rob and asks if he's from the US? (As if I'm not... like heh... look at that gringo back there.) Instead of selling out my Spanish-less friend, I chime in yes, and I'm from the US too. Damnit! Could he have thought I was like Cuban or some other Spanish-speaking ethnicity?!?


The bus drops off pretty much in a field and we talk to two others in Spanish while Rob finds a person who actually speaks English! Boiling down all three conversations we eventually find a bus to get on which takes us to the main entrance of La Campana National Park.
(Now this bus was actually pretty cool, zigzagging through dusty side roads, pulling hard to make it up steep inclines with a max. of 5 mph. It was also playing a soundtrack of classical music favorites- the theme from "Beef, it's what's for dinner" along with the Nutcracker Suite.)


Now were there, we check in with the attendant, pay money to hike the trail, learn we have about an hour to hike before rangers start to bring us down (hike is about 6 hours) and then he tells me a bus from Santiago leaves from a road about 1km away. Oh, you mean directly back to Santiago? No thanks, I'd rather take a train, plane and an automobile.



Oh, and then we saw a dairy cow in the woods...

as Scott and Cait are leaving Rob alone to camp in the woods...

rob: whoah what was that?
scott: what's up
rob: it's a cow
scott: f-you... really?
rob: i'm a little scared now
[all of us a little in disbelief- would the cow be able to stop it's momentum and not run into us?]
cait and scott: well we better be on our way. have a good night man!

what?! all this only for only 12 USD?!?

That's right folks... jealous? ;) No, in all seriousness "crap ain't cheap here." In doing conversions we've found we're paying less for fresh meat, fish, wine, vegetables, fruits and rent but possibly more for pizza, cheese, good beer, electricity and phone calls. (Plus I make less money but I work half as much, yessss!)

We've had fun checking out all the markets (within walking and public transit distance). My first experience with finding out just how much a kilo was ended with giving away half of my green bean stash on the street after I had just purchased it because it was weighing down my new-found walking self.

Here's a picture of tomatoes at the market which cost about 60 cents for 2.2 pounds.

And here's just.... yeah..... for all you vegetarians out there :)

femicide

In the United States when women are murdered by intimate partners, former partners, husbands or ex-husbands, the press repeatedly distorts the issue and consistently fails to mention domestic violence as an issue leading up to the murder. I have written to People magazine for their awful representation of the story about the WWF wrestler (Chris Benoit) who murdered his family and then killed himself two years ago. They query, was it roid rage? Maybe he just snapped one day? US politics distort issues of violence in general but it especially fails to link culture to violence; the US press world prefers sensationalism to disappointing and unfortunate realities. The WWF dude in Florida killed his wife and kids because of the same reason why men all over the world kill their partners/ex-partners- the perilous end to a vicious cycle of domestic violence.

In Chile, when a man kills his girlfriend, wife or ex they call it femicide. When I first saw this, I thought "wow, doesn't that convey a different message?" According to Wikipedia, all-knowing, ever-correct Wiki ;) femicide is defined as the systematic killing of women for various reasons, usually cultural. Femicide is seen as a gender crime. The word is attested from the 1820s. What would happen in the USA if the murder of women by intimate partners/ex-partners was called femicide? Shit would hit the fan. The only thing we know about words that end in -cide is a word called "genocide" and that doesn't happen in our country, only in countries really, really far away...

Don't get me wrong, Chile also has its problems with domestic violence; a country with about 17 million people, has just recognized its 10th femicide of this relatively new year of 2009. The Chilean Government (Gobierno de Chile) has launched a campaign "Cuando las mujeres advanzan Chile se advanza" (When women advance, Chile advances). The campaign has plastered large banners around the city with this phrase and a picture of ladies confidently walking next to each other (kind of like a Sex and the City poster). But the point I am trying to make here is that is SPONSORED by the government directly!


Yes, you might say "but Caitlin, March is Women's Month." Let me tell you, these posters and signs are so ubiquitous that they will be sticking around until October... I'll have plenty of time to conduct a public opinion poll and report back. :)

Scary Demons

With being in a new place, new continent entirely, comes different flora and fauna in addition to "different" everything else. I will tell you what though, these birds (below) are just not right! I bet you never noticed before that pigeons (and most small birds) walk with an exaggerated head waddle. Or maybe you noticed but let me tell you it has never quite mattered to me before I ran into these birds, who along with dogs are trying to eat everything they come in contact with. I don't know what it is but I was convinced they were going to attack me! Tough call between the ravenous appetite and their RED beady eyes...


Alas, the picture doesn't do it justice...

beautiful smog

This is beautiful downtown Santiago. This shot was taken on a particularly less smog-filled morning as I was strolling around. Up until this point I had literally forgotten that the city is surrounded by the Andes' foothills. I'll even add a personal detail... Two words: black boogers.

gay pride

Street graffiti is salient here in Santiago. It is not uncommon to see "poetic" phrases about the cops (pacos), el capitalismo and death of the "state" or youth rebellion. I like this one best at the moment. The Chilean translation is "I'm lesbian, so what, so 'f*%& you.'"

departamentos

Last week contained a variety of hilarious experiences as far as apartment hunting goes. Before heading down here I was convinced that I could find an affordable place for both Scott and I to live (entirely on my salary)... When I finally arrived here I could easily find rooms for 150.000 to 180.000 (yay inflation) including everything. As soon as I told them it was a couple, the price quickly jumped to well over 200.000. Asking "why" many different times to many different people, I ended up concluding I would forced to pay a gringo tax for the two of us to exist in the same space.

We explored options in the cheap range (90.000 for a room) and expensive (300.000 for an apartment). We spent less than 2 minutes in the expensive place, brand new, knowing full well we couldn't afford it. Scott and I were really excited about the 90.000, live with a Chileno deal. It couldn't be that bad, we thought. Wrong! Coming off of a road-trip adventure Scott was kind of excited about living in a shack (which in all reality was what it was). Upon leaving he says "it's alright right now I just don't know what we'd do if it rained."

We decided to check out some mid-range places. Before entering an apartment in Central Santiago, a group of Chilean boys whispered to us "muy fea" seconds before the owner opened the door to us (leaving us unsure about whether they were talking about the owner herself or the apartment). It ended up being a very bizarre experience; the owner was sitting on the bed, blasting "All I need is a miracle" by Mike and the Mechanics and bearing a weird yet undeniably seductive smile. She was kind of like Annette Benning in "American Beauty" but without the sexiness.

We were relieved when we finally found something right up our alley: 1 bedroom, enough space, close to my school!, fantastic rooftop view, free bike parking and storage, communal washer and dryer (with funny little machines that vend a token each in a little box) and free exercise room. :) :) Come visit!

This is the view from our window on the 7th floor!

Scott's Customs Adventure

With all the excitement about arriving in Chile, you'd think the entire plane flight would be spent gaming out how to get into the country. But alas, I was distracted by the free beer, feel-good Disney movie about overcoming racism through sports, and some delicious food! So, as soon as I could get my seatbelt off, I was barreling through the airport terminal on my way to Customs.
My passport in hand, I was turned away and told to walk all the way back to fill out a declaration form and pay my official entrance fee of $130 US Clams. On the right path now, I again rushed to the customs window with a huge smile on my face only to be directed....again...to fill out more forms. Finally, with a pile of paperwork, bags hanging off in all directions, I slogged my way back to the counter. My forms crumpled...my face sweaty...and my spirits undashed, I explained to the customs agent that I was no threat to his country. He wanted to know things like; who I knew here and where I would be staying. Now worries, I replied, this girl I know is coming to get me and bring me to this place she's staying. Where? She knows... no worries.
He watched me walk away with a look of regret but I think he ended up taking me as pathetic gringo rather than a dangerous foreigner.

Things have been wonderful. Between welcoming Chileans, friendly travelers, and eager new friends, culture shock hasn't been an issue. In fact, the culture here seems so similar... maybe just different shades of the same color. The language is really the challenging thing at this point. I've dropped off four resumes, received one invitation for an interview, and am looking forward to callbacks after positive interactions with each business. I miss you all and can't wait to catch up!