Zapatos: A Journey In My Shoes: Living the dream

It’s been two full weeks since I moved to Loncoche, but it feels like I’ve been here for ages. I absolutely love what I’m doing, and can’t imagine anything more fulfilling at this point in my life. Going to the liceo every day reaffirms my decision to become a teacher and to pursue my passion for studying Spanish and Hispanic cultures. People seem both pleased and confused by my cheerful disposition, but the truth is simply that I am content.

I love the excitement in my students’ faces when they earn an “awesome” stamp for participating in English, the comfort they seem to feel after being encouraged by their peers, the confusion in their eyes when I explain to them that we will be playing a game similar to musical chairs, and the laughter that fills the room when I dance around to emphasize a point. I love drinking coffee and joking around with the other teachers at our 9:30 break and feeling like I’m part of a team. And of course I love hearing “Hello Miss” coming from every which direction as I walk down the hall. Our workdays are long and right now the only people I know are associated with the school. During the week, my life is at the liceo, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the weekends, I am able to explore. And explore is exactly what I did this weekend.

On Friday night, my host mom and I were invited to an asado (Chilean BBQ) with a “special” group of teachers at the liceo. They all happened to teach night classes, so the asado didn’t get started until after 8pm. As we started to get things set up, I had a nice conversation with the nighttime English teacher, Pablito (-ito because he’s small in stature). He speaks very well and is muy amable. While looking for things to start the fire, we found a puppy in the storage shed attached to the building. This puppy had obviously been put there because she was in a box with a blanket and there was a bowl of food next to her. She was small and precious and not yet tainted by life on the streets like the other strays. She was adorable. I loved her and she loved me. We played and bonded. The following day, I continued to think about her and the possibility of adopting her…I even decided on a name. Gabriela Mistral (a famous Chilean poet and diplomat). Gabi for short. I honestly weighed all of my options and decided that I could make it happen, but that I shouldn’t. I’m slowly getting over it…

I grew increasingly excited as more people began to show up, because they were all of my favorite teachers (I like everyone, but this was a group of people that I find especially interesting and that I have more in common with…plus a lot of them are younger). There is so much meat involved in an asado, it’s not even funny. There are also side salads, however. At one point, everyone started shouting something and I had no idea what was going on. Then, they started passing out sausages on buns! They were delicious.

Several things did not going according to plans, which caused for an interesting experience. Primarily, the shortage of silverware. As a result, my host mom had to eat with her hands, Rodolfo had a spoon, and I had a spoon and a giant chef’s knife.

At one point, people started telling jokes. I understood the majority of them because they were clean. The kind of jokes your history teacher tells during class and gets sympathy laughs for…which is actually exactly what happened (P.S. I’ve come to the conclusion that teachers are the same everywhere, personality-wise. You can tell who’s a math teacher vs. a history teacher vs. a PE teacher, etc.).

Joke:

¿Qué dijo el pollo al otro pollo?

¡Necesito apoyo!

Every so often someone would say something and then everyone would look at me to see if I understood. That’s always a fun moment. I long for the day that doesn’t happen.

At the end of the night, we were all happy and in good company. I’d say my first asado, although untraditional, was a success. I am thrilled to call these people my friends and look forward to future asados. I’ve decided that I want to make them an American brunch one weekend. It’s going to be unforgettable, I’m sure of it.

* * *

Saturday morning I woke up early to catch a bus to Villarrica, where I was going to take another bus to Pucón. Pucón is a tourist city about an hour away from where I live, but there are no direct buses, so I had to transfer in Villarrica. Since Alice, another EOD volunteer, lives in Villarrica, we planned to meet up and travel the rest of the way together. There are national parks and hiking trails galore in Pucón. Our plan for the day, however, was to go horseback riding. Alice loves riding back in the states, so she researched some places and convinced a group of us to go (not that it took much convincing).

I may or may not have missed my bus…so I took the next one (which of course was running a bit behind schedule). Since the smaller buses here will pick up anyone on the side of the road and allow them to just pay what the driver thinks is a reasonable price to get to their desired destination (along the bus route), it is easy to get behind schedule…Long story short, I was running late, but it didn’t matter because the tour guide with the horseback riding company was also late.

Horseback Riding = hacer cabalgata

The woman from the cabalgata company picked us up at the bus station in her jeep. We randomly stopped at a fish place along the way. No one has any idea why. After several stops and sidetracks (she forgot something because the cat distracted her at one place, so we had to turn around), we arrived at the ranch. There were horses and a couple dogs happily running around. When the owners/guides got us all set up in half chaps and ponchos, we got super nervous. Why? Because we had no real experience riding horses and we were going to be riding in the Andes Mountains on a difficult trail (because the ground was wet and the horses would be slipping)…What?!

As we rode along, we were in complete awe of the natural beauty before us. Could this life even be real? We were horseback riding in the Andes Mountains and stopping off to hike around secret lakes that the horses couldn’t reach! When we returned to the house, we snacked on coconut cookies and maté, an herbal tea popular in Argentina (it is commonly put in a mug and sipped through a metal straw that strains the loose leaves of the tea, which is passed around kind of like a peace pipe). We then got a ride back to a random bus stop from another person who was on the horseback riding adventure with us (he’s apparently friends with the owners). There, we became those random people who flag down a bus to catch a ride into town.

The remainder of the day was spent walking around Pucón, enjoying the sites and making plans for future visits. On my bus ride back to Loncoche, I just happened to be seated next to a custodian at the liceo and his son, one of my students. I find that I am not surprised by much here. I’m proactive where I need to be and the rest of the time, I just go with the flow. And you know, everything works out.

Weekends like this remind me how blessed I am to be alive and to be living out my dreams. I am reminded of what is possible with effort and what exists with open eyes. I only pray that eight months is enough time to instill the passion in my community that will drive them to these places, where they can fulfill their dreams.