Primary Reflections

It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly 4 months. Only four months. 134 days. Four months looks so short on a calendar, but so many things can happen in four months – according to Google, you can learn to run a 4 hour marathon in 4 months. I didn’t do that.

Seriously, though, it is so strange to look back at the things I have accomplished, or haven’t accomplished, in the past semester. I’ve made new friends; I’ve taken classes in a different country with a different education system and in a different language, and I think I managed to pass them all; I’ve become more comfortable speaking in a foreign language, and while I’m not quite as fluent as I’d like to be, I’ve discovered it’s not so much about how well you speak, but how confidently you speak; I’ve travelled to new places and struck up conversations with complete strangers, for no better reason than that we were both alone in places were being alone was not a common situation; I’ve been lonely, I’ve felt crowded, and I’ve decided it’s ok to miss people for no other reason than just needing that one particular style of hug; I’ve laughed harder than I’ve laughed in a long time; I've climbed mountains and walked through the clouds; I’ve learned that Latin America is far more interesting than I expected it to be; I’ve been scared and felt targeted, but I’ve also never felt so welcomed and wanted; I’ve been laughed at for my gringa-ness, and I’ve been mistaken for a Chilean; I’ve gotten lost countless times, and been on so many adventures.

It’s been an Adventure with a capital A, and it’s coming to a close. What with classes winding down and finals looming, I’ve been rushing towards the end without even realizing it. I realized last week that I was saying goodbye to my classmates at la Catolica for the last time. It was a strange realization – how do you say goodbye to people you’re probably never going to see again?

I’m so torn about having to leave. On one hand, I’m looking forward to seeing my friends and family again; to having a higher level of independence, to driving my own car, speaking in english, using my school library (I swear, I daydream about that library – it’s probably not healthy). I’m looking forward to leaving this city. I love Chile, and I love South America, but I am not a city person, and I have realized the extent of that since I’ve been here. I’m just not comfortable in a big city like Santiago, and I’m looking forward to leaving the crowds, the noise, and the pollution behind.

At the same time, I’m not ready to leave yet. I feel like there are so many things I have yet to accomplish, and that last minute panic is setting in – all of those things that, all of a sudden, you realize you HAVE to do before you go or your entire stay will have been utterly worthless. There are so many places I still want to go, so many things left to do, so many people to meet, and I know that I just don’t have the time or the ability to do it all. But that just means that I have more of a reason to come back in the future!

I think the hardest part about coming back is going to be knowing what to say. How do you summarize an experience like this in a two minute timeframe? I have so many stories that I want to tell everyone, and it will be hard to come to terms with the fact that, as much as I want to pretend otherwise, most people just won’t want to hear them all. And that’s ok! Because no matter how many stories I tell, there is no way I will be able to capture this experience for you. It’s not something I can wrap up with a bow and give to you. This is what they mean when they say that study abroad is a life changing experience that you need to live through to really understand. I can tell you that it’s cold – I can’t explain to you what it feels like to see your breath in the bathroom. I can tell you all of my stories and how I felt, I can lay it out in perfect detail with beautiful imagery and no spelling mistakes, but no matter how I write it out, I cannot bring you into my head and help you to experience what I experienced, I can’t show you what my study abroad experience actually was. I can’t bring you into the heart of what study abroad is, which is throwing yourself out there into the completely unknown and trusting that you’ll be able to catch yourself and that, in the end, it will all be worth it. When I return to the states, I will want to tell you my stories, and I will be so frustrated because no matter how hard I try, no matter how many stories I tell and no matter how many you are actually willing to listen to, I won’t be able to show you what it all meant.

And you know what? That’s ok.

The Best Time to Wear a Striped Sweater

My host mom and several of my Chilean classmates are currently under the impression that I don't get cold. Now, anyone who has seen me at school reading under a small mountain of blankets can attest that this just isn't true -- I get cold as easily as the next person, and rather easier than some.

A Note About Heating in Chile

Central heating just really isn't a thing in Chile. It's expensive, and it's not very common. Most of the buildings at school aren't heated, so it's up to us to bundle up when it gets cold. At home, in houses and apartments more than 5-10 years old (that is to say, most of them), there is also no central heating, so we use a little gas stove and lots of sweaters. When it started to rain last week, I found myself wearing a sweater, a scarf, and a thick pair of socks -- inside the apartment. I plunked myself down in front of the stove and I spent the next hour trying to figure out how exactly I could ball myself around my mug of tea in order to obtain maximum warmth from the heat it gave off, but also be able to drink it without spilling it. I'm sorry to say that I never did figure it out, but I did manage to do it all without spilling a single drop.

So do I get cold? Obviously. Why, then, do Chileans seem to think I'm invincible? It's simple --Santiago simply isn't very cold.

I have no doubt that it'll get colder -- it rained last week, and according to Katy's host dad, it's never going to stop (I'm sure he didn't actually phrase it this ominously, but I decided in my head that he meant it was legitimately just never going to stop raining and ark builders are just going to start popping up any day now). That was the first time it was actually cold enough to warrant more than just a sweatshirt. But for the most part, compared to what I'm used to, it just hasn't been very cold.

As far as I can tell, in Chile anything below 25°C demands a jacket, and every 2° decrease requires at least another sweater, if not a blanket. More than once, I've emerged from my room barefoot in jeans and a t-shirt, to find Rosita bundled up in 2 sweaters, a jacket, and a sort of poncho. In our gymnastics class, Katy and I wear leggings and t-shirts while our classmates layer up with socks and sweatshirts. It's a little funny, in a way, but to us mostly just a little bizarre -- at home, if it's 25° outside and you're wearing a puffy jacket, you probably have circulation problems; in Chile, it's completely normal.

I'm curious to see what the next month is going to bring. While it's just starting to get cold outside, inside it's been cold for a while. It's not uncommon for the inside of the apartment to be much colder than the weather outside, probably because no matter the temperature, the kitchen window is always open. I don't know why, but it's not just my host mom -- Chileans in general keep the windows open, even just a little bit. I've begun keeping my bedroom door shut, because I've found my room stays warmer than the rest of the apartment, for whatever reason. When that doesn't work, I sit the stove next to my desk, curl up in my chair with my sweater and my tea, and convince myself that the more I type, the warmer I will become. I can't say it's worked out for warmth, but it does help me finish my essays sooner. Maybe I should re-define my terms of success.