Hello Good Bye

It’s been a while since I have written. There isn’t any particular reason for it I just haven’t felt compelled to write in this thing. I feel like it has become more of a chore if anything. I have figured out that I don’t like to write for other people, I like to write because I like to write, which makes for a terrible blogger. It’s not that I don’t appreciate people who follow my blog, thank you very much for reading what I write, I feel honored that you find my writing interesting enough to keep reading it. I just like writing for the sake of writing. It’s how I best express myself and how I figure out my emotions.

At this moment I feel like my emotions are on steroids. I am sitting in the Santiago airport waiting for a 6:30 am flight to Sao Paulo Brazil. The time reads 12:40am. I have been here for about three hours and have been ready to shoot myself in the face for two of them. It’s like time is standing still and the only thing that I have to do with myself is think. I am depressed. My first semester in Chile is officially over marked by the departure of all of my closest friends. Channeling my inner Eve 6 fan, my heart’s in a blender and I’m watching it spin around in a beautiful oblivion. Everything is so mixed up. I feel like I’m going through a bitter sweet breaking of the heart. I’m so content and happy with where my life is and where it will go in the immediate future but I am so sad that I have to see all of my friends leave, but also gratefully happy to have ever met them in the first place. I hate feeling this fragile and vulnerable. It terrifies me that I have opened myself up to so many people and that their departure has turned me into a complete emotional train wreck. It has been a while since I have been able to feel so comfortable and open with so many people, allowing them to seep in and settle into the cracks of my mending heart. It scares me quite a bit, but it feels good to know that I reached out to so many people who in turn have permanently changed my life. Their absence hurts me so much that I have gotten physically sick. My chest hurts from constant sobbing accompanied by the constant urge to vomit. I’m exhausted.

I am mad at myself for booking this stupid flight. Who the hell ever thought that a 6:30 am flight would ever be convenient for anyone? I would have given anything to have had one last night with everyone. But I suppose that is life.

The only time that I have ever felt like this was on my way back from my exchange year in Brazil. I think that leaving the place where you went is a million times harder than leaving wherever you are from. Its hardest because you have no idea if you will ever be back, and if you do go back, it will never be the same as when you left. I remember it took me about two and a half days to complete a journey that was only supposed to take about 12 hours thanks to hurricanes along the Atlantic coast. I felt so helpless. My head was in a fog. I was in the U.S. but I felt like a foreigner. I hadn’t seen my family in over a year, I had just completed a journey that tore me to pieces and left me to put them back together again. I just wanted to be home. I remember finding a corner in the terminal that I was stuck in to collapse in and cry. It kind of makes me think of how dogs disappear in search of a place to die. Only not so dramatic.

So, unfortunately for me, I coincidentally am stuck in an airport again with noting but ridiculous amounts of time to think about how I feel. I fucking hate airports. I hate them so much but am too cheap to shell out for a direct flight anywhere. Fuck my life. All I can think about is how alone I am and all of the people that have left. I keep crying at random moments. People must think I’m crazy. Or pathetic. Probably a little of both.

My computer battery is dying. So is my energy. Time to sleep on top of my stuff so no one steals it.

Just got a phone call from my friends. You guys made my night. I’ll be home in a week, I can’t wait to see you kooks again.

I Would Have Been a Happy Inca

The energy is what got me. The distinct ebb and flow of contagious energy that flows through the ancient city, like the wind cursing through the valley and through the city walls. It's in the rocks of the city walls, the thin air that you breath and especially in the sun. Permit the energy can consume you and it will bring you to a higher place where you feel everything slightly differently. Everything is taken up a notch. Your senses, your emotions and the way you feel your muscles contract and release, muscles that you didn't even know you had. The energy grown stronger the longer the sun is up. In the heat of the afternoon its like the tourists have become the city dwellers and the sun is your God. The ancient ruins and the Peruvian jungle that preserved the city for so long are equally breath taking. It makes you wish there were more hours in the day to prolong the fleeting colors of the sunset in which to marvel the city. It is so beautiful that I can't write. I don't know how the put the words together or make sense of what the city made me feel. I would like to think that what I felt was the magic of time and the presence of lost souls that still inhabit the walls built of stone. Its the energy that I have no words to describe. It is different from love which is different from feeling powerful which is different from feeling awake and alive. My words will hardly do these ruins justice. Nor will my photos. But for the sake of an interesting blog, here are some faves:

My travel buddies Christian, Erika and Hannah

Photo cred: Christian Papesch

Checking out Wynapicchu, the mountain in all of the postcards. We climbed it.

Floating in the clouds after a little meditation with our new friend Joel from Australia.

Rapunzel Rapunzel let down your long hair

Shadow fun

Some surrounding Peruvian jungle mountains. Its no wonder Hiram Bingham didn't discover this until 1911.

Weird Asian boxing movie anyone?

A little back story now. My friends Hannah, Erika, Christian and I traveled 48 straight hours to get to Machu Picchu. As in, we departed from Vina on a Monday night to catch a 4:20am flight from Santiago to Arica, Chile. We crossed the Peruvian border at 8am and then got on a bus to Ariquipa, Peru. After one of our more interesting dinners we got on a night bus from Ariquipa to Cuzco and ended up on a tour of the Sacred Valley of the Incas which ended in the town Ollantaytambo where we caught a train that night, ending up in Aguas Calientes at around midnight. After 4 hours of "sleep" Christian and I waited in line for the buses that brought us up through the mountains to the entrance of the park while Erika and Hannah braved the early morning darkness and hiked up. Being a grandmother at heart, I almost died of relief to see their smiling faces, dripping with sweat, at the entrance gate. The gates opened at 6am to welcome us to one of the most incredible days of our lives.

I found them! They're alive!

The ladies spent the following day exploring Cuzco which vibrates with the same infectious flow as Machu Picchu, while Christian took a ride in the clouds with the San Pedro cactus. Cuzco was one of those days where there the best word to describe it turns out to be something completely generic and unoriginal. It was a real good day. A day you can look back on while story swapping with your friends and get a warm feeling inside and know its more than just the sun on your back. Its that good day feeling. That was my day in Cuzco. It was spent bartering for paintings on the street, picking out various clothing items made from alpaca to give as presents and reminiscing about our adventure in Machu Picchu.

The Plaza de Armas, Cuzco

Got this goat thrown into my arms. Thanks.

Hannah bartering with some Peruvian artisan women. Getting a little flustered. 

Saqsaywaman ruins above Cusco

Cusco lit up

 We also thought a lot about our families and the people we love. I have found that on vacations like these you start to think about coming back to these places to share them with people who you love the most. This is not to say that I do not love my friends that I tackled this adventurcation with, it just means to say that you start to realize who is truly important to you. You take notice of the people that are always on your mind and you miss them even harder when you go on incredible adventures without them. I know my family would have had the greatest time in the world exploring those ruins, misunderstanding the locals and eating things like alpaca. So would have my guy friends at school. Its a cool feeling when you stop for a minute or do a double take because those neon sneakers should belong to a guy that lives in a place called the Court House or because someone's grandma's beach house should really have one of those wind chimes hanging outside of her screened in porch. Its those bittersweet moments that I have learned to cherish and appreciate. It means you've probably got someone missing you right back on the other side and they probably think of you time to time as well.

Shout out to the Penguin. I miss the way you waddle. 

After Cuzco we made our way to Lake Titicaca which is the largest and highest lake in South America. It holds a different kind of beauty than Machu Picchu. Its more fluid and placid. After seeing a pre-Incan burial/ceremony site one afternoon we took a boat ride to visit the Uros, a group of people who constructed islands out of reeds and live on them. They lead the most interesting lives out of any civilization I have ever studied or encountered. They live on man made islands of reeds. Impressive. We also visited an island called Taquila. Not tequila, TAquila. This was another peculiar group for several reasons. For one, you could tell a person's entire life story just by looking at them. Their clothes said it all. Wearing a certain sized belt with a certain pattern and color scheme combined with this style shirt with a cloth hat topped with a top hat meant something very clear that none of us could see. Their island was so small that a communistic approach to their economy made sense and actually functioned. Each guided group was assigned a restaurant to eat at. There was no competition for customers. The only souvenir store that we encountered, aside from the children trying to sell us woven bracelets along the stone paths, was in the main plaza and was 2 stories high. They sold hats and belts. There were also no cars on the island. If you wanted to go somewhere you walked along the stone paths that weaved in and around the countryside.

Us and our new friend Tom from France

Cruzin with another new friend from Norway

View of the lakeside city Puno

Looking out to where blue meets blue

 Lake Titicaca is so big it looks like it could be the sea. There are spaces on the horizon, between the dotted islands where that is all that you can see, the line of the horizon. Where blue meets blue, the water and the sky. It was strange knowing that Bolivia, the forbidden land for us Americans without visas, was on the other side of all of that water. It was right there, but we couldn't even catch a glimpse of it. It suppose Bolivia will have to be saved for another adventure.

This is a video Christian put together of our time in Peru:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgQWIJlcFDQ&feature=feedu

. 

Get Cho Drunk Face On!

This blog would not be complete without a drunk blog posting. So run with me here.
I am actually surprised that I am awake enough to type since today has been a busy day. But the day is not so much as important as to why I am tyoing here in my bed at 2:33 am. Long story short I went outside of a club and they wouldn't let me back in. Assholes. Excuse my French. Actually I met this guy there that kept asking me if I spoke French tonight and no matter how many times I told him no, somehow he didn't believe me. Idiot. I speak 3 languages and French isn't one of them. How hard is that to believe. To me it is not so hard. And that really isn't that long of a story.
So what am I thinking right now... I'm thinking a lot about Steve actually, who it the penguin in the adventures of the penguin and the ladybug. Steve means a whole lot to me. I think about him all of the time. Hes got me. Not sure how else to explain our relationship, or lack there of maybe. I don't even know what we are, or where we will go in the future. Where ever it is I hope that it brings us together. I miss the hell out of you. I know you read this and that is a nice feeling.You're nice. Sometimes too nice to me. But I like you for it. I like you a lot for the way you are. I don't even know if I am making sense.Something that I do know makes sense is something that you will only understand: rawr. Yeaaaaa. rawr.
I don't like smelling smoke, nor do I like being treated like a joke. I feel like both of these things are what you have to look forward to with the nightlife in Vina. People blowing smoke and not believing that you don't speak French. Assholes. It kind of sucks, but everything else is kind of awesome about it. I like my friends here. Your friend make the time that you are having and that is whats important. Not where you are but who you're with. I'm going to miss these people. Shout out to my ladies. You know who you are. If you have to question if I am talking about you just assume that I am. It'll make you happy inside and I probably am talking about you anyway.
It is now 2:44 and I have a presentation tomorrow. Its been real. Sleepy time for the sleepy head (Passion Pit reference anyone?)
People are yelling outside my bedroom window and there is a car alarm going off.
Meh.
Buenas Noches

deuces

The Sound of Settling

I am sick. I have been attached to my bed for the entire day, drifting in and out of consciousness, getting up only to take a quiz at school, only to immediately return to my pitiful position. I hate being sick. I hate being unproductive, rather. Which is the reason why I have been procrastinating about writing in this blog.
I feel like I have passed into a new phase of my stay which I couldn't make sense of until I wrote about it to someone else. I was feeling like I had become kind of lazy. I was bored, but not just bored. I was also mad that I was bored. I felt guilty and lazy. In the back of my head I imagined people thinking that I was ungrateful or that I was wasting time. Now I realize that its not that at all.
We have started a new phase in our experiences and now I remember why this feeling is so familiar. Its what happens every time you move somewhere new. It happened when I moved to Brazil, when I went to college, when I moved to New Hampshire. At first everything is new and new is always exciting. Its all peaches. But, over time the excitement wears off and things start looking more like pears (I am not very fond of pears). It is not that I do not like it here, its that I have gotten accustomed to it. Not all of it of course but a lot of it. Like living in a city, taking public transportation or walking everywhere, living with my family, and exploring many of the things my surrounding to offer. Now I have settled, like the tea leaves in the bottom of my cup. And like the settled tea leaves, life is covered in honey. I live here, I have a life here and this settling is something to be proud of.

Drinking some tea, only instead of honey, there is lemon cheesecake, which is just as sweet.

I have also not been as lazy as I thought, I have been getting into my fair share of shenanigance. I have been going out a lot and experiencing all of the funny, awkward and enjoyable experiences that go along with partying. I have come to terms with the reality of being taller than just about every guy I meet and that no matter how much I compare, Chile will never be like Brazil and Spanish will not be like Portuguese. The sidewalk will always have holes in it, stray dogs will follow me home at night and grown men will always whistle and make cat calls.

More stories, this really has been a while.
Vina caught on fire. I suppose this is worth mentioning. It was quite scary actually, I have never witness such chaos first hand. I was at the beach with a friend when we looked up and saw that the sky was black. We didn't notice it at first because we were facing the sea, doing homework and having our own little problem with heavy winds kicking up sand trying to bury us alive. It may have been the sirens, it may not, but for some reason our attention got turned towards the land where we saw the smoke billowing out from the hills. We asked some girls if they knew what was going on, they didn't, but they were very nice and we ended up going to a party at their apartment over the weekend. So my friend and I ventured into town to make sure that it wasn't either of our houses that had caught fire. It turned out to be a forest fire. It was incredible. I have never seen so much smoke or heard so many sirens. There were fire trucks doing rounds trying to get it under control along with planes carrying water from a near by lake. We ended up sitting on my friend's balcony with some tea and banana bread to watch the madness. Everything turned out fine, well, sort of. It turned out alright is what I suppose I am trying to say. Vina is still standing but the trees in the hills certainly are not as tall.

This is what Vina looks like on fire. That plane is about to make it rain.

I lost my shoe in Algarobo. They happened to be my favorite pair. Long story short I threw my shoe into the ocean while trying to beat the shit out of some bees who were trying to eat our Asian sesame chicken salad. I am an idiot. It was the day before easter. I prayed to the easter bunny to bring me my lost shoe for easter, but he didn't. Rabbits don't know how to swim I guess.

Shoeless and pissed in Algarobo
Then Easter happened. I sat in the sun on my balcony all day. It was a perfect way to celebrate a holiday from a religion I no longer have much faith in, doing absolutely nothing. Despite my status as a non-believer the easter bunny did find me after all. Its not my shoe, but it'll do. Thanks Meg! Mi mama Chilena!

From now forward I suppose I will be doing things that settled people do, exploring tea houses and having girls nights on Thursday. Going out to Cafe Journal on Wednesday night and club hopping during the weekends. I also am in the midst of planning two trips. In about two weeks I will be on my way to Machu Picchu and then off to Easter Island in June. Oh life, how did we ever get so comfortable with each other?

Drinking tea and eating cake at the Tea Corner

Girl's lunch on a Friday afternoon overlooking the bay.

It Was Cold, Frigid Cold

It was cold, frigid cold. The rain didn't help, but I had grown used to it since thats what the sky did here most of the time. I had come to appreciate dry sneakers much more than I had ever thought possible to appreciate something that no one even really thinks about. The same goes for dry clothes, the sensation of being warm and a place to sleep that isn't wet, loud or infested with earwigs.

The rock that I was sitting on might as well have been an ice cube. There was a strange sensation in my hands, which usually swell when I hike, but the cold was telling them to do otherwise, leaving me with swollen fingers and bright red palms. My head and my throat hurt from not sleeping and I had scratches on my legs from hiking through thorn bushes and brambles all morning only to end up at this rock.

Our morning hike was supposed to lead us to see the towers, a set of rock formations which the park was named after, but the higher we climbed the harder it rained. The crest of every hill brought another daunting hill crest into sight, and another after that. We eventually decided that it wasn't worth going any further since it would lead us to more of the same thing, fog, rain and probably snow if we went far enough.
\
I wasn't disappointed though. In fact I felt quite the opposite as I sat on my rock embracing the cold and the rain since it was the last time for a long time that I was going to feel it. I reflected on my time here and immediately began to cry. A place has never moved me so emotionally before. The combined thought of where I was and how I felt while I was here was overwhelming. The mountains were just so big that they made you feel like a grain of sand in the Sahara Desert or a single plankton in floating around in the sea. I felt small. Which also meant that everything that I was thinking about was also very small. All of the problems that I had were carried away by the whistling wind. It was liberating. I felt relieved and relaxed.

It reminded me of when my dad took me skiing right before I left for Chile. He kept saying that he just had to go, he had to get out of his life for a day and get into nature. We were both stressed. He has to do a lot of things in his line of work that he really shouldn't have to do because of the state of our health system in the U.S. I was preparing for my second study abroad experience and was so nervous that I was starting to make myself sick. So we went and it was on of the best skiing days I have ever had. Not just because I got to spend one of my last days in the U.S. with my dad but because of how we felt after. Relieved, more relaxed.

Sitting on that rock, in the cold and the rain, surrounded by fog I felt very humbled. I am not a lucky person when it comes to certain things but I felt extremely lucky to be sitting on that rock with my friend behind me on his. I felt content. I noticed the things that had gone wrong, like losing a contact, the constant cold, my weak ankles, my asthma, our ripped tent, the earwigs but they didn't matter. Not on that rock. Everything outside of that moment was completely insignificant. I appreciated that I was surrounded by mountains and lakes that were so beautiful that they brought me to tears. I was with friends whom I had come to love over such a short time. I felt alive and grateful to be alive.

So, in the end we didn't see the towers but that was ok, just knowing that they were there and appreciating that I was there was enough.

Here is a video that my friend, Christian Papesch, made from photos that he took during our trip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8LBVxVr3nY

Let it Rain

I have been meaning to write for a while now. Its been hard though, this week has sort have been a big one, a messy one. A strange one. I have been thinking a lot, but every time I go to write nothing comes out. I have lost my voice. Again.
I don't like this feeling, not being able to write freely. I don't like not being able to put emotions into words or paint a picture with my voice. Its too eerily familiar.
This past week every time I have tried to write something, the words haven't made since on the page. They were too disjointed or mangled. They didn't make sense.
I guess thats how I sort of feel right now. Disjointed, mangled, like I can't make sense. Its how I feel about a lot of things I suppose.
One night, late, after the club had closed, my friends and I sat on a park bench and talked about the world. Or, they talked, I fell asleep. I remember hearing them talk about how fucked up the world is and what it would take to change it. Then this homeless guy came along and started talking to us. I couldn't help but think what perfect timing it was for him to approach us. He was an appropriate example of the fucked up world that we live in. He ended up giving us a blanket because he could see that we were cold. The irony of a homeless man giving us a blanket made me want to throw up. It also could have been all the alcohol that I drank earlier that night, but I am pretty sure it was tragedy of the irony of the situation. It got to a point in the conversation where we asked him why he was alone, and he sat down in a heap on top of his bundle containing all of his belongings and started to cry.
He started talking about God and how God's love keeps him going. He made me question my own standpoint on God, since I have been questioning it for a while now. Mostly because of a lot of fucked up shit I have been through. Like if he truly exists then where the hell was he when I needed him? Where was he when I asked for his help, when I needed a sign that it was going to be alright? I feel like a preacher would tell me that he wanted me to find the strength within myself to prevail, to carry on. I could handle it if I really gave it everything I had inside me. At my church they always said to find the strength of God within yourself, or may God's strength be with you, something like that. But I think that it is because of this inner strength that I question his existence. And the origin of this strength was myself, not God. If I had not found this strength, I would be dead by now. So, if there is a God I would really like to ask him something "What the FUCK was that for?" And do not tell me to find the answer within myself, I'm done with that shit.
But there was this homeless guy, who has probably been through more shit than I have and he has all the faith in the world. I don't get how he still believes. I don't understand how he can get out of bed everyday knowing what lies ahead. Solitude, discrimination, shit. I couldn't really figure him out either, if his words were truly genuine. I would like to believe that they were. It would make the fucked-up-ness of this world more bearable I suppose. But I don't know, I don't know what he was really all about. But I am glad that we met him, and I am grateful for the way he makes me think.
So I am thinking that this experience, among other things, has affected my ability to write anything worth reading, because I don't know the answers to the things that this made me think about. I don't know why I had to go through the shit that I did, why God is never around, if this guy was for real, is my life what I want it to be, or if I'm going in the right direction. These questions are all that I have been able to think about for the past couple of days. They flow through my head like one of those rain sticks that you find at the discovery channel store. You turn it to one side and listen to it rain, like looking at something from one perspective. Then flip it over, look at it another way and let the thoughts drip through your head. Letting the raindrops seep into the cracks, discovering thoughts you had never thought of before. So, here I am. Looking for some answers in the rain inside my head. Right now its like a hurricane.

La Ola Gigante que Nunca Llego

I just realized that I have completely overlooked something that I feel I should address. Last Thursday night, as the world knows, Japan was shaken by a tremendous earthquake ranking an 8.9 on the Richter Scale. This earthquake also triggered a 23 foot tsunami that plowed through the northeast coastal region and sent its waves pulsing outwards trough the Pacific.
On Friday morning, I woke up to a phone call from my program coordinator here in Chile telling me about the earthquake in and how the Chilean government had issued a tsunami warning for Chile's entire coastline. The phone call itself wasn't very traumatic it was afterwards that the news began to sink in that I started to feel scared. I have minimal experience in dealing with nature's destructive forces. A tornado hit my town in Maine last summer, but I was working in New Hampshire and wasn't there to experience the panic that it must have caused, the same panic that must have terrorized the people of Japan. A friend texted me everything that happened, giving me a play by play. But she was fine in the end. My family was fine. My friend's house had some serious damage, but everything really turned out like the rest, just fine.
I watched a documentary on tsunami's once, right after a massive one cleared out most of Indonesia a couple of years ago. So of course that is what I think of when I think of a tsunami, an enormous wave driven by an inconceivable force that contains the potential of destroying entire islands. I pictured the big casino here in Vina and the ritzy Sheraton hotel both being swept away by a single wave, the ships in the harbor colliding into apartment buildings and the stray dogs of Vina running for the hills, leaving us all to drown. I thought of my boyfriend who was camping on a peninsula in New Zealand, not having heard the news until it was too late. I thought of him being trapped in his tent as the waves approached the shore where he was camping and taking him out to sea. All very scary thoughts.
My friends and I had planned to go to Valpo that Friday but the tsunami almost made us cancel our plans. I am glad that we didn't. So went back to Valpariso and took an ascensor (elevator) up onto the top of a hill where you can see the sea for miles. It made me feel better being up high with people who understood what I was saying and being able to see the the ocean. It would have been amazing to witness the waves from up there. I felt like if something that powerful and destructive was going to happen, I wanted to see it. And I wanted to see it from that hill. I expect it would have been one of the most incredible things I would ever have seen in my life.
When we headed back to Vina we learned that the road connecting Vina and Valpo was closing at 9pm because of the government issued warning. When I got home my host family was there and told me that I couldn't leave the house anymore. So I went online and learned that everyone that lived at sea level was being evacuated to higher ground. My host sister took me out onto the balcony and showed me that all of the cars were in the garage and the streets were deserted, even the dogs could sense what was coming. It was a Friday night and everyone was at home. My family kept telling me that all of this was just precautionary and that there was no reason to be worried, like this sort of thing happened all the time. And maybe it does, I didn't really want to know at the moment. It was not until my host brother left to go to a friends house that the threat of anything actually happening was incredibly slim, which contradicted what that stupid documentary had told me years ago. I thought that the worst thing for a tsunami was open water because without anything to slow it down, it gains more speed and momentum. But if my host mom let him leave, it must not be that serious. At 1am I was finally able to sleep since the tsunami was due to arrive at 12:31am. If anything was going to happen it already would have.
In Vina nothing happened. Maybe a couple waves were a few feet bigger than normal,  and a few friends had to abandon their homes that night, but everything here is OK. Just like Maine after the tornado.
After the scare and the stress, and as the death toll continues to raise in northeast Japan, I am eternally grateful that I am OK. That Vina is OK and that everything here turned out just fine.

Fresh Cut Grass

After a long afternoon of walking and exploring Vina I returned home to my apartment building. Climbing the stairs, which I swear, have got to be as tall at Mount Everest, I was met with the smell of freshly cut grass which sent a pang of nostalgia up my spine and quickly settled in the pit of my stomach. This is the first time since I have been away that I have missed home. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt so blindsided by the feeling of homesickness that I felt guilty for not feeling it until now. I stopped on the path and inhaled. And exhaled, and inhaled again. I didn't expect tears to come, but they did. Just like I didn't expect the nostalgia to sting so much or feel so heavy in my heart, but it was.Very heavy. 

I hate the feeling of homesickness almost at much as I hate the feeling of vomiting your guts out after a night of heavy drinking. The cause of my detest probably stems from the mindset that I am here and I want to live here. I want my head and my heart to all be in one place and not scattered into different places all over the earth. Over time it eats away at you, creating little tears until something like the unexpected scent of fresh cut grass sends you into a meltdown. I hate this feeling, but it is kind of the life that I have chosen, well sort of. It really all just happened. Family in Maine and Brazil, Germany and Switzerland, friends in New Hampshire, a boyfriend in New Zealand, and now I am in Chile. I am already finding more people to love and get close to. 

I wish I could just appreciate the feeling of longing to be close to someone when I am far away, since it says something about how much they mean to you and you to them. Like I said before, I feel guilty for despising it. Like I am ungrateful for being where I am right now. I know that it is always harder watching someone leave and being the one left behind, like I have now done to my family twice. But life cannot always be fun and games, going to clubs and the beach. But life is not a fairytale, nor would I ever want it to be. Sometimes you just have to break down on a bench in the garden and cry.

First Week... FIESTA WEEK!!

What a week! The party at the club last week was so crazy! Well, the process of getting there was actually a lot crazier than the club. Some of us wanted to walk, others wanted to take a taxi, taxi's were called but none of them showed up... we ended up on a bus. Which we thought was the wrong bus, but then turned out to be the right one. The club was called Scratch and it looked like you could contract something that would make you scratch, if you know what I mean. The place looked sketchy. But, we had a great time. Here are some pics:

Good times yeaa. So, after arriving home at around 5am I slept for a little while and then went with my host mom Meg to the most wonderful Farmers Market I have ever been to. There was just mountains of fruits and veggies and all for very little money. We ended up almost not being able to carry everything home, we got so many yummy things to eat. It was beautiful.
After we arrived home I got ready and left to go on a tour of Valpariso, one of the cities next to Vina del Mar. At the beginning of the tour we went on a boat/lancha that took us around the harbor. We saw sea lions!!

Valpo, as everyone here calls it, used to be the biggest sea port in Chile, before the Panama Canal that is. It is still a big tourist destination and is a beautiful. In 2003 it was made one of UNESCO's world heritage sites so now they are trying to restore the old buildings and preserve the older parts of the city. Most of the residents live in the hills or the cerros that lead to the sea and it is the only city in the world like that. In the cerros there are limited roads and most residents use public transit. Each cerro is like a different neighborhood but they are all connected so you can't even tell when you pass over from one cerro to the next. The roads/paths/caminos are steep and narrow and all the walls are covered in artistic graffiti. Valpo is a beautiful city. At the end of our tour we went to a very traditional restaurant to eat chorialla. Chorialla is a traditional Chilean dish that was born in Valpo. It is french fries covered in scrambled eggs with onions and topped with steak. It sounds really strange but it is sooo good, and soo very bad for you.

This week some of my classes started, but only my Spanish classes. I have Grammar class and Composition and Chilean Culture class. They meet 2-3 times per week. My other classes are going to either start next week or in April, which is a little strange to me, I am not sure why they do not all start at the same time. My other classes Contemporary Themes which I know will have a lot of history, more work to do and then another class is called Cultures in Contact. Cultures in Contact is a class with half Chilean half international students and we learn about each other, there will be a lot of field trips I think. Well, I hope.

The past couple of days have been hot so I have been able to go to the beach!! It is not usually very warm here since it is already fall. It is much hotter in the summer months of December and January, and now it is only going to get colder. I am excited for it though, I enjoy cold weather, especially fall weather. Sweaters and pants and jackets :) I have been going out a lot, hehe. The traditional drink here is a pisco sour, not really sure what is in it but it tastes limey and yummy. The wine is awesome, even the really cheap stuff. Its all good.

This weekend I am going to Santiago for a tour of the city with my group. We are going to see all of the famous plazas and buildings and stuff. The day after I hope that I will be able to go hiking! I am very excited for it so I hope everything works out.

Mullets and Mohawks

This past week has been Orientation Week. Woop Woop. I met all of my fellow intercambistas (exchange students) and have been having a pretty awesome time so far. I have done a lot of stuff, for lack of a better word. Orientation consisted of various activities and lectures. We talked about how to live in a foreign country, focusing on Chile (uh duh). We talked about living with a host family and how its not nice to eat all of their food or take forever in the bathroom, or burn their house down (shout out to Corey). We also talked about Chilean daily life, like how to avoid being mugged and other important things, like what a taxi looks like (black and yellow black and yellow), how to take money out of an ATM (+/- 500 pesos to the dollar!), where to buy wear sunscreen (you have to ask for it at a pharmacy because they keep it behind the counter, and its expensive!! I had to pay almost $40! But I have already been sunburned twice and Vina is close to a hole in the ozone layer so...), what a colectivo is (a group taxi), how to avoid gypsies (run away) and what to do in case of an earthquake (head for the hills).

My school seems really cool. Last night I ran a marathon with some other kids from our group. Check out the pics on my facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/kaci.l.greatorex

It was only 3km. Don't ask me if I ran the whole thing. I will lie and tell you I did. I have explored a lot, walked around, gone into stores, talked to people. Vina is a pretty small city, now that I have been around I can usually find my way around from anywhere. The streets are easy to follow and my host mom has taught me which ones to avoid at night. I have officially touched the Pacific Ocean the other day when my mom took me to the beach. It was cold, but thrilling. After we watched the sunset over Valpariso. The farther the sun went down, the more the hills glittered in the evening dusk.

I'd say we are a nice group of kids, about 25 or so of us, mostly girls and we are from all over the U.S. Argentina, Spain, Germany and Brazil. I like that each one of us Americans is very different, but how could be not be all being from a different region of the U.S. We all talk differently too, you can tell who is from the north, south, midwest and everything. I like that us kids from the states are all different, we have our own stories, backgrounds and will all have different futures when we leave here. I think we defy the stereotype of what some outsiders think it means to identify as an American. It also changes your sense of self identity because I think that we all, whether we would like to admit it or not rely on the image of a stereotypical American to identify ourselves abroad. Part of our identity is to be judged as something that usually isn't true. And yea there is also the view of everyone being different in America, the great melting pot, but thats not usually what people think of first.

While along the lines of talking about things Americaish, it is incredible how many American stores and restaurants are in this city. It is something that I was not prepared for and could not have expected. And it is not just that globalization has this city by the balls, this city is westernized, or more specifically Americanized. There are American fast food chains like McDonalds, Starbucks, Dunkin Doughnuts and Subway, and retail stores like Nine West, Hush Puppies, Lacoste, Oakley, Scott and Aldo. To me its strange, but they don't look out of place here. I asked my host mom why there were so many American stores here and she said that its what people here want to buy, American brands. Oh the irony, I have come to study abroad for difference, to be thrown out of my comfort zone and I get a grande mocha frappachino.

Amidst all of these American stores and fast food eateries (which by the way are way better here) I still am in Chile and I do feel out of place. I am happy about it though. When I saw all of the stores from the states I was worried that I wasn't going to get what I came here for, but after a few days I realize that that was so silly of me to think that. Naive even, to think that here would be remotely like there. Since I am here and not there. Chilean Spanish is extremely difficult to understand. People keep telling me that if you can understand Chilean Spanish you can understand any Spanish. Wish I knew that before I signed up for this haha! Among the brand name stores are artisan fairs selling all sorts of mementos from Chile, leather walets, cloth and knitted bags, mini statues of animals, knock off Ray Bans (I intend on getting a hot pink retro pair). I got a wallet and a change purse for about $10 USD. Certain things here are a lot cheeper than I expected them to be. The other day I went to the farmacia to get deodorant, facial cleansing cloths and body lotion and it all cost me under $10 USD. That kind of stuff would have cost probably around $25 in the U.S. and they were all the same brands. Incredible. I feel like I should stock up before I go home.

So, some strange things about Chile... no one is ever on time, except for exchange students, because we don't know better yet. We eat lunch at around 3pm. The milk is weird, like in Brazil, it comes in a cardboard box. The fashion seems to be stuck in the 80's, some girls have big hair wear bright colored leggings, high top nikes and big chunky colorful jewelry. The cool guys have mohawks or mullets... or mullet mohawks and skateboard. We would think of it as terrible style (which I do) but I appreciate their confidence and forms of self expression. Drinking in public is legal. People can still smoke in public places. Stray dogs are everywhere... and will follow you if you give them any attention. Chile is cool. I like it. And gypsies are very very sneaky.

Tonight there is a party at a nightclub for all new students, nothing like partying with the freshmen... all too familiar.

Vina del Mar

I feel very relieved that I have finally arrived in Vina. My host family is pretty awesome. I have a Mom, that I call Meg, a sister Francesca, a brother Guillerme and a dog named Milli. Fran is 25 and Gui is 23, I'm the baby! I live in an apartment building that literally right next to my school. I can see it from my window, its right outside the door. I have my own room and bathroom which is very cute. I have a little bed and a desk and a big window that overlooks a mountain of houses. From the balcony in the living room you can see the ocean :) I like my new home very much.

After I arrived I had lunch with my new family and Fran's boyfriend Juan. After I started to unpack and get settled in. I took a shower for the first time in a few days (very necessary) and took a nap. When I woke up my host mom made me dinner and after we went out for a walk. Meg is so nice, I already feel like I am one of  her kids. During our walk she told me about the city, showed me places that I will probably go, and then she had me tell her how to get home. It was a nice walk. Milli the dog does not like skateboards, she barked at all of them and scared the crap out of us. 

Vina is a very small but a very beautiful city. At night there are lots of lights and fountains and people. So far I like it very much. I have got to work on my Spanish though. Its bad, very bad. And it doesn't help that I spent the last week speaking Portuguese, it has me all confused. My head is a jumble of words of 3 different languages and the right words never come out! I will get used to it though, just another transition. Kind of a big one though.

I HATE Airports

I have had yet another terrible experience with flying. I must have extremely bad luck with planes or something.
On Friday I got an email saying that one of my flights was cancelled and that I was put on the next available flight out from Buenos Aires to Santiago, but the flight would get me there too late. There was a group airport pick-up at 10 am and I was going to miss it by 2.5 hours! So crazy, so crazy. Let me go on...
On Saturday my Brazilian host parents took me out to lunch with the family, I got to see my cousin Dani and her boyfriend Mo and also my brother Thiago but only for a few minutes. I was really sad that I could not spend more time with them. I wasn't even there for hardly 24 hours! It was a huge bummer. Anywho, after lunch I said good bye to everyone and my parents Thais and Maricio drove me to Campinas where I got on a bus to the airport.
When I got to the airport things got a little more fun when I went to talk to the airline about my cancelled flight and how I was going to be in a strange country with no one there to help me find my way to Vina del Mar, where I now live. But they said they couldn't do anything about it and that I would have to wait and talk to the people in Buenos Aires. Awesome. (Please realize the heavy layer of sarcasm, since this really was not so fun and had little to do with awesomeness) I had to use my credit card to call my parents and then started calling all of the emergency numbers that my program gave me for Chile, of course no one in Chile picked up there phone so I had to call the director in the U.S. He said he wasn't really going to let anyone know if I was going to be late yet because if I get my flight changed then it would have been all for nothing. OK, fine. Whatever.
So I got on the plane to Buenos Aires, it left Sao Paulo at 8:45 and I got there at around 10:30. When I got there though the entire airport had closed except for a little cafe, where I parked it for the next 10 hours. Yes, 10 hours. That is after I tried to change my flight, which couldn't be done, I was on the earliest one that the airline had. There was a flight leaving the next morning that would get me there on time but I would have to buy a whole other ticket since they did not have a contract with the other airline. I looked up how much it was ($695) and made the executive decision not to even ask my parents for the money. A taxi ride from the airport to my house would be cheeper.
At the cafe I become quite friendly with one of the waiters who helped me out with some stuff. He told me that to international calls I had to go to the Telecentro, a room full of little rooms full of phones and computers that you pay by the minute to use. But it did not open until 6am. The other public pay phones you needed Argentinian pesos to use and they only made local calls. Ugh. I hate airports. The waiter felt bad for me and gave me the password to their internet so that I didn't have to pay for it... and then gave me some free hot chocolate :) Mmmm. Probably the only good thing that happened in Buenos Aires.
At 6 am I went to the Telecentro and called back the director in the U.S. telling him that I could not get on an earlier flight, no one in Chile would pick up their phone (I tried to call them all again) and asked what to do when I got to Santiago. He assured me that he would get in touch with them and that I just needed to look for a sign with my name on it/UVM and I would be fine. OK so good, he would take care of it.
Or not I guess, since there was no one there at the airport. A taxi driver helped me call people in Chile and they said that they had not heard from me so they left early. They left early? Hmmm, why would they do that? Did they think, Oh we're still missing a kid, but lets just go anyway, she'll show up eventually, and then we'll make her take the sketchiest taxi ride of her life, for an outrageous price and arrive at her host family's house who had no idea that I was even coming?
Cool, what a great start.
P.S. No one spoke English or Portuguese and my Spanish sucks.

:) I feel better not that I have let out all of my anger

Take a good look, you'll never be the same again

I have now traveled to a different city in the state of Sao Paulo where I used to live, Americana. Don't even think about joking, an Americana in Americana, I have heard it all. I took the bus this morning from the bus station in Sao Paulo and was picked up by my Brazilian host parents Thais and Mauricio in Americana. It is so good to see them again!!! My family!!
I spent the afternoon hanging out with my host mom Thais, since she doesn't work on Fridays. We went to a new cafe/cake place called Formiguinha. It means little ant, because little ants LOVE sugar! I thought the name was very cute.
After eating the best passion fruit and chocolate mousse quickly followed by a mocha cappuccino we went to the grocery store and arrived home just in time to see my host sister Camilla. A little while later we went to my grandparents house to say hello. My grandfather Vo Zizo is taking Italian classes. My little brother Lucas has been in Italy on exchange since August and at the end of the year the whole family is going to go pick him up in Italy. They did the same for my sister Camilla who went to France and my older brother Thiago who went to Canada. So, my grandfather, Zizo, wants to practice his Italian with everyone he encounters and it is so funny!Ahh it feels so good to be back here!
We went out for pizza for dinner and then Camilla and I went to pick up some exchange students that were arriving at the bus station from Germany and Thailand. I saw my counselor Marcela for the first time since I had left. The kids were all so tired!
I feel so strange. Picking up the exchange students at the bus station brought me back to everything that I was feeling at the beginning of my exchange year in Brazil, and now on Sunday, I'm going to do it all over again. Its just so strange to be in that place, the place where it all began, the exact same place. The situation makes me think about how young I used to be, mentally. I have grown up so much since that day I stepped of the bus in Campinas, just like these kids did a few hours ago, its like I never was that other person. I am not as innocent or naive or reserved, introverted as I used to be, in fact I think I am almost the polar opposite of most of these qualities. I used to be afraid to talk to strangers, now I talk to everyone, everywhere, whether it be in line at the grocery store or the person that I have never met sitting next to me in class and I can't believe that I was ever that shy.
I know that experiences like spending a year abroad or going through something inconceivably difficult changes you but the changes that I see in myself now were never this clear to me until I saw these kids. If I, the person that I am now, were put into a room with the person that I was two and a half years ago I don't think that I would have recognized myself if I had not gone back to the exact same place and watched these kids step off the bus just like I did.
Seeing these kids is like a slap in the face. BAM this was you two and a half years ago. HOLY SHIT.
I was so shy and innocent back then I don't even think we would have been friends, I would have gotten bored. I had never skipped class, never broke the rules, never rebelled against my parents, never done something so bad I could have been put in jail... but I year later I would have done all of those things. I looked at the world through a hole the size of a pin.
This also makes me think about the changes I will go through this time around. This time it will only last for 6 months, which is not a year. But it is still a considerable amount of time, and I know I will change. I will be different. Will I still want the same things that I want now? How will it change my perspective of the world? I'm excited, but also terrified. What would you think if someone told you to take a good look in the mirror because you will never be the same person again. I happen to quite like who I am. I am proud of who I have become.
The funny thing is, it wasn't even in the plans for me to go to the bus station with Camilla to pick up these kids, but I am glad it is where I ended up tonight.

Avenida Paulista

Yesterday was my first day back and I decided to go to law school. I am staying in my friend Gabriela's apartment and she studies law at PUC SP (Pontifica Universidade Catolica de Sao Paulo) and I went to class with her yesterday morning. Class started at 7:30, we showed up at 8:15 :) Oh Brazil. The first class was about workers law, direito de trabalho. We talked about the history of workers rights in Brazil, minimum wage, minimum age, mandatory vacation time (I think I understood it was 3 months! I think I heard wrong, I was very confused) stuff like that. It was pretty cool actually, talking about the history of workers right in a different country. Cool stuff. The second class sucked, I couldn't understand a thing. I don't even know what it was about, but I do know that Gabi has an internship at a place that practices this kind of law. I should figure out what it is.

In the afternoon I hung out with some of Gabi's roommates; Mateus and Luiz. I was so tired from my stupid disaster of a voyage that I couldn't bring myself to go out and explore where I was. I couldn't believe it! But, I made up for it today.

Today was pretty awesome actually. I slept in while Gabi went to class then met up with her for lunch at school. Afterwords I went with her to Avenida Paulista, a very famous street in Brazil that she worked very close to.  I spent the whole day exploring, walking up and down the street, going into stores, buildings, shopping malls, parks. It was so much fun. I didn't think that it would be since I was going all alone but I found it very refreshing, I had a great time looking at the architecture, strolling in the park. It inspired me to sit down and start writing again. I went to a cafe and sat a wrote some poetry for an hour, and then did it again in the park. It was lovely.

A view from uder MASP, the Modern Art Museum on Avenida Paulista

A park where I sat on a bench in the shade to escape the heat.

After meeting Gabi after work we went to Starbucks and then walked from Avenida Paulista to her school (40 minutes) We walked in front of one of the best medical schools in the country USP (Universidade de Sao Paulo) and it was such a beautiful campus with white buildings and grass and palm trees everywhere. When we arrived at Gabi's school there was a protest going on because they raised the price to ride the public bus. There was a little stage set up in the courtyard with a microphone with student lined up to speak about the subject. It was pretty cool. They are really only able to do this sort of thing, organize a protest and have a public debate like this because the police are not allowed in the school. PUC is a Catholic school and the school is not allowed to have any affiliation with the state, including the police force and the firemen. So if there was a fire in the school the director would have to give them some sort of document giving them permission to enter the school before they can attend to the fire. This is why the students were allowed to organize like this, or else the police would have broken it up.

PUC-SP at night

I really like Gabi's school, it is very different than an American University. For one thing we would consider it tiny. It is only a couple of buildings that have a couple of floors each. There is a courtyard, little cafes and a little cafeteria. You don't see anyone there dressed in sweatpants or in shirts displaying the name of their school, it is much more formal, mostly because a lot of the students have internships in the city and work after they go to school. So, there are girls in dresses and heels, guys walking around in suits. The professors are also much more interesting than the professors in the U.S. They are much more passionate about what they teach and it shows during their lecture. If we had professors like them I think that I would get straight A's.

It is impossible to fall asleep in JFK

So much has happened in the past 48 hours I am not even sure how to even begin the first entry in this blog. I suppose I can start by letting everyone know that I finally made it to Brazil, though it almost didn't happen. Let me explain;
Friday night I was making copies of all things important when I discovered that my Brazilian visa had gone missing. After tearing apart my room and completely freaking out until the early hours of the morning, I came to the conclusion that it was not anywhere in my house in Maine, so I went to sleep and dreamed of ways to smuggle myself into the country without a legit visa. My dreams ended with me being stranded at customs in Sao Paulo, or in a Brazilian jail. Things looked grim.
After much more confusion and stress and help from some reinforcements (beloved Aunt Alison) we decided that it must be in my old passport... which I thought I had lost. So we threw everything in the car and drove to my apartment in New Hampshire. WE FOUND IT. After a quick stop at the Court House we were off to Logan International.
Logan was fine, ate the best tuna burger of my life, said good bye to the fam... and then my flight was delayed. And then it was delayed again. Apparently New York was a complete mess and having to deal with 50mph winds. Knowing this I asked the booking agent to rebook my flight for somewhere else, but she refused and told me to go sit down. The booking agent won the award for the absolute rudest person that I have ever met in my entire life, with an extra gold star for a negative attitude. Then all hell broke loose when they told anyone that had an international connection needed to rebook about 20 minutes later. Thanks Biotch.
I ended up getting on the flight to New York and then waiting around for a flight to Sao Paulo at 8:30 am. I found a stranded group of Brazilians and we all stuck together for the night. None of us really managed to sleep, but I guess it was good since I got to practice my Portuguese with them. I made a friend, a girl my age named Marcela from Florianopolis and traded seats with a guy from Argentina so that we could sit together on the plane.

Waiting in line for TAM airlines to open with all of me and Marcela's luggage. It was around 4am.

When we arrived in Sao Paulo it was raining. Very fitting. I ended up taking a crazy taxi ride to my friend Gabriela's apartment. The taxi driver was a little nuts, and we ended up taking a wrong turn which brought us to the wrong part of the city. Oops. When I finally got there Gabi and another friend from Rio Claro, Caina were there to greet me. It was so good to finally get there, and so good to see people that I recognized! We went out for sushi and then went to bed.
So I am finally here, I have survived. YAY!