Take In These Santiago “Sites”

I want to share the projects, musings, and clever voices of four clever ladies I’ve had the good fortune to cross paths with during my first few months in Santiago. They are all smart. They all have five-to-seven years’ experience living in Santiago. Their Spanish is scary good. Cumulatively, they are teachers, photographers, entrepreneurs–and they are all writers. I wanted to shine a little light on each of them as a thank-you for the warm welcome each has given me–a novice blogger and Santiago newbie with a thick gringa accent and a propensity for getting lost. They have taken me under their experienced wings by telling me what to read, where to catch the bus, who to talk to about submitting, what I can expect from teaching English, and where to find good Cuban food. They are, in other words, the kinds of women I hoped to meet here, but never imagined I’d stumble upon so soon into the adventure. I guess emailing every single random contact you know or may not know really pays off 🙂

Bellavista inspiration to go along with
these most inspiring women writers!

Herewith, their inspiring ventures:


1. Don’t Calle Me Gringa: Emily writes about “20-something life in Santiago,” but also afar, as she takes you on her weekend jaunts (yes, she will fly to Brazil for the weekend), to her soccer games, and posts something new and delicious every Saturday to get your weekend started right. Emily and I went to high school together… a healthy handful of years apart, but having gone to the same tiny school 6,000 miles away sure cuts through a lot of the standard getting-to-know-you routine. She was one of the very first people I ventured out to meet on my own in my new home city. She saw that deer-in-the-headlights look in my eye, she translated my order at Starbucks (What? “Iced coffee” can be complicated!), and she didn’t balk. It’s been great for Ryan and I to get to know her and her husband down here–we’re grateful for their restaurant recommendations and their friendship!
2. Fotografo de Bodas, Santiago: Kyle is a talented wedding photographer who has a following and reputation that belies her youth. Her photography punches sheer beauty into all her blog posts. I met her recently and definitely recommend her work to all the local brides out there. She is the kind of person who will help you before she even knows you all that well (then email you a book recommendation, then send you helpful links for your novel all in the turn of 24 hours), and there’s nothing a stranger in a strange land might appreciate more than that.

3. Bearshapedshere: It’s not every day you’re at a party in Santiago and feel like you’re right back in New York, talking about publishing, swapping websites, editors, pitching, and the recent articles you both liked or disliked. But to meet Eileen is to meet a woman from Brooklyn living in Santiago with whom you can do just that. It was comical that we were well into our conversation before I realized she was also the brains behind a blog I first found last year by way of my women’s traveling class. (“Oh, YOU’RE bearshapedshere?!”) She writes for many travel outlets and her postings and images of the recent education protests here in Chile are not to be missed. Explore her blog and participate in what will surely be an enlightening, intelligent conversation.
4. ProfeConnect: Through an email exchange of an email exchange, I met one of the founders of this brand new project, which will be connecting English teachers and students in Chile. Right now the blog portion is up and running and chock-full of advice for teachers, and many more features are on their way. As a brand new English teacher myself, I’m already relying on this great resource. While it’s launching in Chile, I have no doubt that teachers and students around the world will find its resources and tips useful. (Stay tuned for a guest blog or two from yours truly!)

Many writers, travelers, photographers, and wise women are making their way in Santiago. For now, I wanted to say “thank you” to these four. I could also say my go-to line that meeting them has made “home” in the sense of California/Publishing/ Academia/Friendship seem less far away. But the true sentiment is almost just the opposite: getting to know them, their unique talents, and like-minded interests makes Santiago, and all that’s possible right here, feel like the home I’m after.

Spring Sprang Sprung

Santiago has put the sprung in spring!

Happy Labor Day! As everyone back home knows well, it’s time to experience that joy of joys: the three-day weekend. They are rare, and I think we can all agree they are lovely. When they arrive, Friday is the beginning of what feels like endless time to relax, get away, cook, write, whatever it is you often have to put off during the work week. Then Saturday may as well be Friday, and when Sunday arrives you still have a solid 36 hours left to go. By Monday evening, you sense the return of those stomach rumblings usually reserved for Sunday (because you may still have all your homework left to do). Still, you persevere. You hang on to the last flavorful remnants until… the alarm is going off and you’re heading back to the office or school or job site or desk or cafe. But it’s Tuesday morning! The start of a four-day work week. Everybody wins. Needless to say, Labor Day won’t be observed here in Chile…. until May 1, that is. However, there is a veritable slew of new holidays that Ryan and I now get to celebrate, including homage to Saint Peter and Saint Paul, Our Lady of Mount Carmel, and Assumption of Mary (which we just had on August 15).

 

 

While July 4 was obviously just another work day down here, Chile’s Independence Day is right around the corner. As everyone here knows well, September brings the biggest holiday of the year. As in bigger than Christmas, people. We’re talking about the Fiestas Patrias of September 18, the national day of Chile. Colloquially, it’s called “the Dieciocho,” which marks the country’s first strides toward independence from Spain (specifically with the First Government Junta, formed in 1810. Napoleon was also involved. Since my history is shoddy, I’ll direct you to the previous link, which has the details.) The hearty celebration continues the next day and the rest of the week.

 

 

But since it’s the very beginning of September, someone somewhere is already starting the party rock anthem because the official mes de la patria is underway. I have yet to see this holiday up close, so I’ll be sure to report back with news of Santiago’s flag-filled parades and dancing in the streets and barbeques, a.k.a. asados. Last year, Ryan was here to mark the 200th anniversary, which was obviously bigger than “bigger than Christmas.” We’ll just have to see what 201 has in store. I’ll still miss you all this weekend, as you head outside to pool parties, light the grill, and stock the car for a little road trip, ready to enjoy all the general goodness wrapped up in these last days of summer (or as they are here, the first sweet days of spring). Whatever you do, please, please stay safe out there and encourage your dear friends and family to do the same.

 

Spring overlapping with the rest of winter. 

Hermit Style

I think it’s safe to say that Ryan and I have developed an uncanny ability to stay in for the large majority of (dare I say the entire) weekend. I can make a couple of solid excuses for this because where in our culture is it truly “ok” to do this without feeling slightly sloth-like in those sweatpants that are oh-so-comfortable on this here couch?! Onward with the excuses:

• One, we are officially many moons past the dawn of our thirties. We now tire early. We enjoy the comforts of making dinner at home and watching the finale of Friday Night Lights (for the second time if you’re like me). The thought of heading out to socialize at an hour like 10pm now shocks me more than anything else, as much as my neighbors do when they invite people over to socialize at an hour like 10pm! Oh dear, are thirties the new eighties? 😉

• Two, our dearest friends are no longer our nearest. They are celebrating birthdays and wedding festivities and weekend BBQs all the way back home. And while I am making the effort and saying “Yes!” and joining the best of ’em during the week, there is something about the weekends that I’m cherishing in a way I never really allowed myself to do guilt-free when I lived in New York or San Francisco.

Because of course I want to see my friends! I don’t want to miss out! But 6,000 miles have put such a strain on the parameters of my FOMO Syndrome, that I can’t really claim it as a fear at all. I have to fess up to genuine, denial-free awareness that at this distance we are indeed missing out. Thanks to an equal spike in my social networking prowess, I can at least see the pics of friends’ brand new babies (Congratulations, Honora and Whitney and Suzie!!), track the path of Irene as she barrels her way up the eastern seaboard and over the heads of dozens of dear cousins and friends (love and miss you, Massoni’s!), and comment on the darling pictures of darling friends doing darling things, pictures I know I might even be in if I weren’t so far away (Katie and Laura and Patrick’s surf sessions come to mind!)

But there’s something delicious about staying in all weekend without commitments to this city I’m still getting to know. I can start and barrel through, Irene-style, no less than half of The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, finally reading it because I want to read Freedom. As for Franzen’s 10-year-old tome, yes, I carried the hard cover all the way down to Chile, determined that after taking it from my mom’s bookshelf many years ago and then from one apartment to another in San Francisco and finding it again at the top of a dear friend’s recommended reading list, it was time for it to go into the circulation of the pile of “Books to Read Next” I have going at any given time:

While I brought my all-time favorite-favorites to Chile, I also brought the books I’ve accumulated or been gifted but haven’t yet read (two years of grad school really pumped up the volume in that regard). I mean if you can’t get around to reading them down in Chile, where can you?! And this time around, all 568 pages of The Corrections floated straight to the top and won the pick-and-choose party I love throwing for one when it’s time for a new book. I literally spread them out, all within reach, and start each one to test their respective temperatures for the next week or two they will go everywhere with me, migrating to the bedside, the backpack, and right back to this couch on a Sunday afternoon.

I guess I now completely understand all the hype about Franzen… his perfect-vision eye on detail, his omniscient ability to take you down into the sour depths and up to the fantastical highs of each character, and the fact that I now believe these people exist, and recognize their anxieties and challenges and decisions in my very own and in ways that make it no longer a mystery why I didn’t pick this book up earlier, least of all ten years ago when it was published. It wasn’t until right now, chilling at the bottom of the world with my husband, that it could make perfect sense and crack me up with something completely mundane about domestic life that rings so true that my husband hears my howl from the other room. Case in point:

“The problem then was to find ripe avocados. He found ripe avocados that were the size of limes and cost $3.89 apiece. He stood holding five of them and considered what to do. He put them down and picked them up and put them down and couldn’t pull the trigger” (93).

I mean it wouldn’t be so funny if I hadn’t likely done exactly the same thing at some point in my adult life. I don’t even do this scene justice to excerpt here, so ridiculous and scrumptious is the full picture Franzen paints, of the over-priced Manhattan market, of the fired-professor-turned-aspiring screenwriter’s shame at this point in time, of the fact that he ends up with a two-pound salmon filet wilting in his pants! Take my word, you’ll just have to read it.

In the meantime, I know we have many more weekends in Santiago to explore, meet up with new friends, finally go skiing. I’m sure you’ll likely find posts about those adventures far more interesting than the ones I churn up hermit style over 48 hours indoors. For now, I’ve got half a book to go finish without apology… (and don’t worry, we’re leaving the house for dinner. I promise 🙂

Culture Shocking

Tamales! This and the rest are from the
lovely Pueblito de Los Dominicos, a market
hosting incredible artisans and handicrafts.

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve experienced a few symptoms of Culture Shock. Rest assured! I don’t share the following stages in a homesick kind of way, but just to detail the emotional alignment and re-alignment required when adjusting to a new land.

I studied Culture Shock last year in Faith Adiele‘s graduate Women’s Travel Writing class at Mills College. While we discussed it, theorized it, observed it across various types of travel narrative, it wasn’t until I landed in Chile and went flipping back through my class notes that I realized I had but one scant page that actually broke down the pure process, step-by-step. In my memory, it loomed large over the class and even larger once I landed here. First-hand experience has since made up for the brevity in paper evidence–I’ve dogeared and referenced it often over the past two months in an effort to place myself amongst, at, or between these four main stages:

Cortados are the best! The honeymoon with
these should likely last as long as we’re
here. We drank them down so fast I don’t
even have a “before” shot to share.

1. Honeymoon! “We’ll always be newlyweds,” my sweet husband said the other night when asked how this, our first year of marriage, was fairing. In love, that’s a beautiful ambition. In Culture Shock, it might wear off quick! As is a given with each of these steps, the reaction/length/manifestation is entirely personal (and supposedly proportionate to your intended length of stay). However long your honeymoon phases lasts, it’s unmistakeable… that awe we feel when we step off a plane/boat/train and take in a brand new landscape, climate, terrain, people, language. That awe can be nothing short of invigorating as we move around in the new culture and meet surely what must be the most fascinating people on the planet, who we are so fortunate to have guiding us along as we take in the shiny newness of it all. For me, that’s been flying in over the Andes at sunrise, discovering bohemian havens like Bellavista and Bellas Artes with new friends, or merely walking around my apartment, knowing its our first home together.

2. Shock! And, then, right as you’re loving the neighborhood, you figure out you’re completely lost, are following a janky map, don’t have a phone, and don’t know the language. However it manifests, the point here is that you’re frustrated with how things work (i.e. how they work completely differently than most everything back home), which may lead you to criticize, mock, and withdraw yourself from all those fascinating people you just met. I’m pretty sure I have to equate those first two weeks in country to unadulterated shock, when getting out of bed pre-10AM required herculean strength, and 72-hour stretches may or may not have gone by without my leaving the apartment.

This was back in December. Wonder if I
will ever adjust to summertime Christmas.

3. Negotiation/Adjustment! Okay, you say. I will figure my way around. I will get a phone once and for all. I will develop a daily routine that involves a diameter of at least three subway stops away from the apartment. I will study for this TEFL class and make friends and I’ll come home and tell my husband about my day, which will not involve pacing the apartment or going grocery shopping, as that no longer counts as “an adventure.” In other words, it’s time to venture back out there, regain your sense of humor, learn the language (though I am still very much in all ways working on that one).

4. Integration! This is way beyond regaining your sense of humor. Now we’re talking about regaining your whole dang personality and enthusiasm and even taking on some behaviors of the new culture. Faith told us this was a healthier stage than choosing one culture over the other. And this is what I will continue to aim for… a smooth navigation between California and Chile.

I mean, you didn’t really think I had personal examples for No. 4 yet, did you?! Instead, you can picture me navigating a feedback loop, circling back through equal parts honeymoon-shock-negotiation on sometimes an hourly, daily, weekly, biweekly basis. It all depends on how lost I am, how much I can understand of the language, or whether or not it’s an acceptable time for a Pisco Sour.

These certainly aren’t the only four words to describe the traveler’s emotional journey, as Culture Shock is known by many phrases. For instance, on the final day of my TEFL certification program here in Santiago, our instructor also presented “the five stages of culture shock,” and while synonymous, I think they bare repeating for some differences in tone:

1. Honeymoon
2. Hostility
3. Depression
4. Adaptation
5. Acceptance

Hostility and Depression?! I sure am glad I spent the first two months chalking it up to “shock and negotiation” instead. Call it what you will, but just try not to be too hard on yourself, as I’ve been known to be now and again over these last 60-some-odd days when I don’t have it all figured out. In other words, when I have far from it all figured out.

Regardless of which synonyms you subscribe to, most versions have an implied final step as well (Reverse Culture Shock), which I’m going to have to report on once I’m back in the States. Stay tuned! For now I’ll leave you with the most precious of cats lapping it up at the tap. We know he at least likes the water! (That’s an example of my negotiating sense of humor. I, too, have, more or less, adjusted to that.)

Snow Day in August

Shakespeare had a good one about snow and writing: 
“As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.”
— Two Gentlemen of Verona

Well, nothing says “you now live in the other hemisphere” quite like massive snowflakes speeding past your window on a late morning in August. They melted by the time they hit the rooftops or the puddled pavement, at least here in our neighborhood, but they meant business and they fell for four straight hours and even longer in the neighborhoods closer to the Andes.

It makes me realize that I will now have a summer birthday, as will my husband, born just two days after me back near that illustrious dawn of the ’80s. What will we do?! We won’t have to make a rain plan. (My mom will recall the three years in a row, was it, that we had to rely on dining room table Bingo to entertain my grammar school buddies?) But now! Well, we can get tan in February if we want to. We can BBQ. We can make the most of the outdoors and all the pony rides and bounce houses that go along with those summertime birthdays that always made me a little bit envious. 
But I also have to be honest. I like my winter-minded soul. I can’t deny the comfort I get from a day like today, when the calendar has smiled on you and you can be inside looking out (read: your class has canceled due to another round of protests). It’s cozy and it’s wintry and in many ways it’s me. Sure, I can stake out a spot on the beach with the best of them, but I never really minded when the fog rolled in or it was time to put up the hood. Or in this case, time to fling open the sliding glass door and breathe in the freshest gulp of Santiago air yet.

Something about the snow makes you feel like a kid, doesn’t it? And I didn’t even grow up in it. I guess I’m so tickled because I haven’t seen it drift down live like this since I lived in New York, a stage of life that is officially many more years removed from the present day than the actual number of years I ever lived there. Now, other cities have or will be my home for far longer than New York ever was, or Boston before that. But it’s a delightful surprise to be back in a place where a snap to the air can turn to soft gratings of ice and you literally have to stop whatever it is you’re doing and head to the window, open it if you can, stick your hand out, and try to catch those giant one-and-only’s falling from the sky.

That’s pretty much it for today. I just wanted to share these pics and let everyone know that it got cold enough in Santiago to snow today and turn this expat’s world upside down all over again. And whether it’s warm or wintry, I hope it’s wonderful wherever you are.