Loncoche

Santiago was great, don’t get me wrong, but nothing beats the campo life (country life) in Southern Chile! I love that Santiago is at the foot of the Andes, but this actually contributes to the air pollution problem there, which I’ve decided is another major reason why I prefer the countryside…

*Quick Fact: In Santiago, it is prohibited to have a wood-burning stove to heat your house/apartment (they don’t have central heat) because of the air pollution problem they have. Since mountains surround the city, the dense air from car admissions, etc. gets trapped in a cloud over the city. The air is clean early in the morning and when it rains. During the day, however, the air is pretty dirty. This was definitely noticeable after about a week and a half, when my snot turned gray…

I moved into my house in Loncoche, Araucanía, Chile on 23 March 2013. Here is an account of my experiences that weekend:

I had no idea what to expect, since I could find very little information about the town online. I was put on a bus at 11:30PM and thought to myself, “Okay this is it.” When the man checking tickets on the bus asked me my name, I had to spell it because “Holly” doesn’t exist in Spanish. Then he asked me for an emergency contact number. Fortunately, I had my host mom and head teacher’s phone numbers written on my hand (prepared in case no one showed up at the bus stop). When I began to tell him the number, he just took my hand and copied what it said. If this was any indication of how the rest of the trip was going to be, I was in for quite the experience!

The bus I was riding was called a “cama” or bed because the seats are like recliners. They are a bit wider and lean back almost all the way, so you can sleep during long rides. I didn’t realize how tired I was until my head started to fall (you know how that happens and you wake yourself up when your body jerks) and suddenly the man next to me was tapping me on the shoulder to show me how to recline the seat. I didn’t think that would be complicated, but quickly appreciated the help because I needed him to push the seat back while I held the button…I didn’t sleep well because I was so nervous about missing my stop (which was about 9 ½ hours about from the departure point).

Then all of a sudden, the man who collected tickets came to pass out breakfast! It was like a plane ride, but actually more comfortable. The breakfast consisted of some sort of chocolate cookies and a juice box. Interesting…

The man next to me started talking to me at this point. I was tired, so I felt incompetent in my Spanish-speaking abilities. When we started to pull into Loncoche, I got excited and nervous. There were shack-like houses everywhere, a small grocery store, and a plaza. It was like small-town USA with some stray dogs. But this excited me because I knew that the smaller the town, the bigger my impact would be.

When I got off the bus, the man who I had made friends with wished me luck and waved to me out the window. Then, no one was there. I wasn’t worried, however, because I arrived about 15 minutes earlier than scheduled (which is extremely rare for buses here). The few people walking around at 8:10AM on a Saturday stared at me. Can’t blame them. I was a white girl wearing a teal winter jacket and a backpack, standing next to a suitcase and a duffle bag. All I could think about right then was how much I wanted to brush my teeth and change my clothes because I was probably going to make a poor first impression.

Then a car pulled up with a woman who looked like she was searching for someone and a young man looking excited to help her. This was my ride. We greeted with un beso and loaded my things in the car (I was self-conscious about the weight of my suitcase…as always).  We set my things in the living room and then went to the store to get things for breakfast. While walking, I soaked in the fresh air and reveled in the environment around me. It was green, with lush forests lining the horizons, and the morning air was crisp with the sweet aroma of wood-burning stoves. This was going to be my home for the next 8 months, and I could not be more content.

I quickly learned that my host mom is a philosophy teacher at my school and that the man who came to help is not her son, but simply another teacher at the school.  His name is Rodolfo. He’s 27 and teaches math. He just came back from a two-month grant/scholarship trip to study in France. My host mom, Ariela, is 57. She has two daughters who live together in another city about an hour away. Susana is 31 and has an 11 year old daughter. She is a civil engineer. Camila, 24, is a nurse. Also, everyone can’t get over how identical I apparently look to one of her nieces.

The following night, while my host mom was showing me a photo album, Rodolfo randomly showed up and invited me to the Expo (their county fair). I am extremely lucky because the Expo only happens once a year, and I was able to go…a band called Los Jaivas was playing. They are a famous Chilean band, mainly for their political lyrics. They’re a folk-rock group. I really enjoyed their music!

Then the night after that, my host mom and I were having a conversation about the immigration problem in the United States and the economy (we’ve had conversations about practically everything ALREADY). I was in the middle of drawing a map of the United States when we got a knock on the door. It was Rodolfo and company (one of the English teachers I’ll be working with, a history teacher, and the brother of the English teacher, who I will have in class…all young people). They came just to meet me and socialize. I love that we never know when we’ll get visitors. It’s like my old RA days in school, when you keep the door open and people just drop in. 

I could get used to this.