I had a great time with Mercedes, her daughter Caty, and her grandsons Nestor and Camilo last weekend in San Antonio. A really great time, in fact. But when Mercedes said we’d be returning to Santiago “early on Sunday, around ten,” I assumed that we’d be returning early, around ten—am. Because of this, I didn’t bring any of my homework with me, and when I realized my mistake on Sunday around noon, I began to get a bit stressed. Luckily I was able to call a friend, who gave me the homework assignments that I could do without my materials, and I was able to complete some of the work before late that evening—and luckily Mercedes understood my frustration and we left a bit earlier, and arrived back home early, around eight (pm.)
Regardless, San Antonio was fantastic. It’s a beautiful city in general. It is a coastal city; and generally poor—most of the people who live there are artisans or fishermen, although Caty is a psychologist. But color is everywhere—in the houses, in the vegetation, in the clothes the people wear. In the morning, I taught the boys how to make panqueques gringos (pancakes) which was a blast, and later I tried to teach them how to play Go Fish, but Nestor didn’t really get it and Camilo kept cheating (I think it’s a general truth that kids will try to cheat you when playing Go Fish. They always do…) Later, we went to a seaside market where literally hundreds of pelicans and sea lions perch and wait for tourists and fishermen to throw them food. It was an incredible sight:
This week has been very busy, but in a good way—full of interesting and fun things. Tuesday was Ana’s birthday, and we had multiple celebrations. In the middle of Spanish class, the two levels joined together to carrate (party) with a special lunch topped off with delicious chocolate cake. We sang Cumpleanos Feliz (Happy Birthday) about thirty times before getting it right, and then proceeded to sing and dance to other songs we’ve been learning in class. That night, went over to Ana’s house for empanadas and pisco sours. (There are three things every Chilean drinks: black tea, Coca-Cola, and pisco sours. I feel like I have been talking a lot about pisco sours and need to explain: they’re one part pisco, one part lemon or lime juice, and one part sugar. They’re really delicious.) Ana’s family was really sweet, and I’ve heard a lot about them, so I was excited to finally meet them. It was interesting, also, to see the different environments in which we’re living—Ana lives with her host mother, her mother’s boyfriend, and two younger siblings (aged four and two years) in a large house in Nunoa, a suburb of Santiago. Needless to say, this is a very different situation than mine—Mercedes and I live in a small apartment in the city, and life with two kids under the age of five is pretty much the exact opposite of a very calm, one-on-one environment with a sixty-eight-year-old.
On Wednesday, I went with Mercedes to a meeting of the Writers’ Society of Chile (she’s a member there) and was invited by the professor to participate in that day’s workshop. The topic: nonverbal storytelling (perfect for Spanish language learners!) and a lecture on Pablo Neruda (perfect because he's a Chilean writer I've actually read!) Everyone spoke really slowly, as many writers tend to, so I was able to understand pretty much everything that was going on, although I had problems expressing my own thoughts, as usual. It was incredible—it was only me and a bunch of published Chilean writers telling stories with our bodies, and then verbalizing them, and talking about what we saw in others’ work. I have a feeling that this will be one of the more memorable events of my stay in Santiago, and I hope to attend at least one more workshop before I leave--hopefully I'll be able to write in Spanish by then!
Wednesday night, Roberto invited all of us over to his house for dinner and, yes, pisco sours. We got there at 8:30, and dinner wasn’t served until after midnight—but it didn’t matter, because we actually got to meet and talk with Chileans our age. Roberto’s sons and nephews were there, and they introduced us to some of their friends, and we danced and chatted with them, and each other, and Roberto’s parents (who are completely adorable—they performed the cueca and a tango number for us.) No one left until 1:30 am. I was one of the first people to leave, and felt incredibly lame, but I almost fell asleep in the cab, and didn’t get home until about 2. Luckily, class on Thursday didn’t start until 11, so I was able to get some shut-eye…
Today began Patria (Independence Day) activities, and they’ll be continuing throughout the weekend, so I’ll post about that soon. I will say, for now, that I ate more food today than one ever should in twenty-four hours, and that I tried pork for the second time in my life (l’shana tova!)
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