Though technically I started work in the first week of March, I would hesitate to describe my first month with the university as strenuous. Universidad Santo Tomas is a far-reaching institution with locations all over the country. Their English program, Santo Tomas English Program (STEP - straightforward enough) extends outside the university to teach classes to all sorts of individuals. I have yet to teach any classes but the two classes I've shadowed, for example, were comprised of professionals who were put in the class by their businesses. The classes were small, with less than 6 students in each, catered to a variety of proficiencies, and held in the impressive Torre Titanium (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Titanium_La_Portada), which I would love to teach in in the future. I don't think we're getting our own students for at least another week, though. So I've been keeping busy to myself with all the free time.

In the meantime, though, because we are still earning a salary, myself and a team of three other teachers have been working with a small group of STEP employees in a number of tasks. After our initial orientation, we were treated to a lavish luncheon to welcome us into the program. I ordered
a lomo liso (lean steak) and the eight or so of us drank good wine and laughed about our poor spanish while discussing cultural differences. It was a blast and a great foot to start out on.

Since then, though, the school has had us writing articles and beefing up their social media pages. I wrote one such article about the experience of being in Santiago as a newcomer. I thought I did a decent job describing the culture shock, so I'm linking it here in case anyone wants to take a look:

http://step.santotomas.cl/english/sala_prensa/noticia_detalle/52/first-impressions-of-santiago

That's it for now. I found an ultimate frisbee league down here (!!!) so expect an update on that soon. In the meantime, enjoy some of the pictures from the lunch. They really know how to treat their employees!

Emma's dish: steak and spinach

My dish: lomo with a side of steamed veggies on the right

Me, Emma, and a few other teachers

The man, the legend: Phil, the STEP program director

I've got some time to kill so I figured I'd write a quick update.

This weekend me and a few guys I met at the hostel went to Viña del Mar. It's a gorgeous little coastal town about an hour and a half away from here. The five of us--three ex-fraternity brothers from Seattle, Chicago, and Alabama, an NYU film graduate from Brooklyn, and myself--stopped by to visit two of our friends, also from TeachingChile but who got relocated to Viña by their choice. All of them are hilarious and great fun and it was really nice to get to spend time with the lot of them. I anticipate and look forward to many like excursions in the future.

I've never seen the Pacific before, so I found the experience especially titillating. The town itself was absolutely stunning. I'll post some pictures below; there are always more on my facebook, feel free to friend me. On friday night when, after drinking Stella for $2 USD a bottle (gonna be drinking a lot more of that), we finally made it to the beach, I felt like a kid in a candy store. Admittedly, I feel like that a lot, but even so, the first contact my delicate toes made with the savory waters of the Pacific was a tad overwhelming. I squealed like a pig at a trough of fresh slop.

Some of mah friendz

The next day, after a gourmet breakfast prepared by our resident NYU alum--sautéed mushrooms and tomatoes, fried sausage and onions, and scrambled eggs Gordom Ramsey style, a breakfast whose quality was, frankly, shocking--we headed for the beach. We spent the day there galavanting about: tossing a frisbee, a much-missed activity which I need more of desperately; frolicking in the Pacific, again overwhelming; and, of course, drinking.* That night, we tried our hands at the salsa at one of the top clubs in the area, according to my roommate. I was embarrassed thoroughly but still managed to have a blast. I've made it a goal to improve.

This week is going to be a relatively easy one. We had to design a placement test for the incoming students, but it looks like we won't have classes until April. So, we're doing things remotely for their social media platforms, which means I'll have time to travel. Hopefully I can make the most of it. Let me know in the comments if you've got any ideas!









*A footnote: I finally managed to find a good canned beer that is both inexpensive but not overwhelmingly shitty. Looks like beer's back on the menu, boys! (Forgive me for the LotR reference you know how I can't help myself.)

Adventure!

As we're still gearing up for the school year, on Wednesday the university was nice enough to give us the day off. Eager to make the most of this opportunity, a fellow teacher and I made it our goal to explore some kind of wilderness. Personally, I have become determined to see as much of the surrounding landscape as possible while the summer weather persists (an endeavor I've so far accomplished to the smallest degree, but continue to try I shall). Emma, the other teacher, however, was in it for a whole different ballgame. A scrappy intellectual from Texas, she has a big heart and an affinity for big ideas. At a glance, she's timid and small, but get to know her and you'll find she's a courageous educator who isn't afraid to try new things, get her hands dirty, and do what she thinks is right. I admire her immensely.

Emma is an avid Geocacher. She came down with her mother a week early and the two of them spent that week uncovering Chilean and Peruvian caches and laying a few of their own. For those that are unaware, geocaching (am I supposed to capitalize? I refuse) is a world-wide game in which participants seek out specific coordinates, down to the second, where others have previously laid "caches," which basically constitute a notebook, scroll, or some other form of scrap paper enclosed in a waterproof container. The coordinates, found on http://www.geocaching.com/, often lead to interesting locales with cleverly disguised caches, which are generally hidden just out of plain sight. Emma told me of one particularly interesting cache she and her mother found in Santiago that was attached to a fishing line and lowered into a subway grate: the base of the line was at the specified coordinates, and she had to reel up the cache in order to mark her success. The idea is that, once found, seekers will scribble their name and a cute note on the paper within the cache (often there is no writing utensil within, so any experienced cacher knows to always carry a pencil on-hand), and then indicate on the website that you've done so. Participants can track the activity of caches on this website and note such details as difficulty, the frequency with which others have uncovered the cache, and comments about the experience of those successful. It's a neat way to explore any environment, and as it grows in popularity, caches pop up everywhere. According to Emma, Chile is new to the game, but even so on our day of seeking together we passed more than five.

So on Wednesday, she encouraged me to accompany her as she sought to uncover a cache cleverly hidden within the Santuario de la Naturaleza el Arrayán. Wednesday morning we convened at the last stop of the metro line, got on a bus, and were off into the unknown. The reserve turned out to be fairly close to the city: 20 minutes on the bus and we were in a more residential area of Santiago, but still decidedly within an urban environment. In La Plaza San Enrique, where we exited the crowded bus, taxis waited at the bottom of a road with a steep incline. With the help of an extremely friendly local, we boarded a taxi and set off for our destination up the hill. As we climbed, the houses we passed became increasingly lavish--this was definitely the nicest area of the city I had seen to date. But within minutes, the pavement gave out and we were roughing it over a dirt road. Houses still dotted the road on either side of us, and when the taxi finally let us off at what seemed like a random point on the road, as we walked and the ground dropped off beside us, we could still see homes, nicer than ever, dotting the valley below between patches of trees. The valley widened and the hills grew into the massive shoulders of the Andes as we walked, until suddenly the bustle of the city faded from earshot and we finally found ourselves in glorious tranquillity.

Not long after we set out on foot, we came across a gate with a lone gatekeeper. He charged us each ch$3.000 (~$6 USD) for entry, but once we had paid the fee we voyaged further into the compound until we were surrounded entirely by wilderness. A winding road sprawled before us, descending into the valley formed by the surrounding mountains. Our adventure was about to unfold.

The road to Geocaching glory

Walking along the road, we passed many natural curiosities. Cacti, larger than I've ever encountered and taller than I am, sprouted from the ground along certain mountain faces every several feet. A winding river bubbled about fifty feet below us off the side of the road. We passed gaunt-looking horses wandering the road and feeding from what looked like a repurposed truck trailer. Houses still punctuated the landscape to our right, more extravagant than ever: built onto the hills themselves, most featured giant glass windows that faced into the neighboring valley. At one point, a cow surprised us by walking up onto the path (unfortunately, neither of these two latter features was I able to capture--I foolishly forgot to charge my phone battery the night before).

Small horses looking hungry

Nature! Yeah!

As we walked, Emma consulted her GPS constantly. "Maybe it's up on this peak," or "I bet it's somewhere in that direction" became common utterances. These handheld GPS trackers are a geocacher's best friend, she told me, and I did not struggle to believe it. More than twice, trusting her device's topographical map, we beat it off the road and scrambled up some desolate-looking hill; most of these hunches proved fruitless. But as we walked, the little machine alerted us to several caches planted nearby. Many were at the basin of the valley, near the river, and a few seemed to top distant peaks far beyond our reach. 

Emma - GPS in hand

Further along, we passed a steep, winding stair that led to a statue of the Virgin Mary (her likeness seems to be everywhere in this city), at the base of which was a small picnic table. We climbed the stair to explore the statue--for novelty and for the possibility of future cache locations--and stopped at the table for a quick snack. Continuing on our way, we came across what seemed to be the main center of the compound. Littered with tables, stone grills, and--finally at ground level--bisected by the river, it was a beautiful little family-friendly area. I'd love to go back there for a BYOB BBQ, if only I can get ahold of someone with a vehicle. Maybe another day.

It was also in this area that we discovered the first public map. Comparing it with her GPS, Emma determined which of the branching paths we were meant to take--for the compound also served as a bit of a crossroads--and off we went. We passed a large stone oven, presumably used at large public events, an abandoned building whose purpose both of us could only guess at, and, further along, a pen of mewling donkeys (do donkeys mewl? I'm leaving it). 

It wasn't long after we started along this new path, however, that Emma's geocaching instincts took over. We found a small opening in the foliage that seemed to be frequented by goats: though we didn't see any for the duration of the day, little hill paths like these were stamped all over with tiny hoof-prints. The path zig-zagged up a steep hill that seemed more promising than any other we had encountered before, but soon we lost the trail of hooves and were climbing on hands and knees up loose soil, crawling beneath bush branch and carefully treading on rocks for footing. As we continued up the hill, we realized two things: that the surrounding hills were more mountainous than any we had yet encountered, and that the hill whose side we were currently mounting seemed, in fact, merely a neighbor of the peak we were after. Discouraged, we consulted the GPS, compared it to the surrounding landscape, and discovered the path we were meant to take that we missed in our eagerness. The game was beginning to feel like a treasure hunt, and if we weren't careful it was going to get the better of us. We set off in the direction of the path, which winded up around the incline we were after, more cautiously but just as determined.

Taken from the side of one of the hills. You can see the picnic area in the bottom of the photo--tables for scale.

After more foraging than we would have thought, we were finally rejoined with the path. It was a glorious sight. More tired than we anticipated, we stopped for a brief rest in the shade. Emma looked exhausted and red-faced; I felt dirty and hot. But five minutes later we continued on, the recently-discovered path a symbol of our renewed hope. 

The path rediscovered

As the path winded along, we could feel ourselves climbing steadily. The drop-off on our right afforded a fantastic view of the valley below, and in the distance the sprawling hills grew into mountains, the peak of each jutting shoulder taller than the one before it.

We also became acutely aware that, as we climbed, we were bearing ever-closer to our buried treasure. Elated and encouraged by this realization, we pressed onwards with renewed vigor. Not 80 feet from our goal, however, the path suddenly disappeared, and we found ourselves, to our dismay, deposited yet again on a barren mountain face. At this point, we were quite high, and the hill was steeper than it had ever been. Wary of our both our ankles and our rapidly-vanishing water supply, we set off once more, occasionally falling victim to a loose sediment deposit but carefully avoiding the massive cacti and deposits of goat-feces, surprisingly still abundant at this altitude. 

The last picture I managed to take before my phone died

We closed the last 80 feet at almost a jog, determined to uncover our prize. The peak of the hill afforded a beautiful view of the surrounding area, as peaks are wont to do. Ahead of us still lay the task of finding the hidden cache, however. Emma reread the cacher's entry: she relayed that it was at the base of a small tree and buried under some rocks. We quickly identified the tree and began removing rocks from a pile at its base; sure enough, enclosed within the pile was a plastic food container with a small notebook and some odd trinkets inside: some stickers, a miniature deck of cards, and a pencil. Elated, we opened the tiny notebook to discover that this was the first cache ever laid in Chile! Exciting! After reading other accounts from people who seemed just as confused as us about having to scramble up the side of a pathless hill, we scribbled a small note ("my first cache!!"), left our names (Emma left her username as well), and returned the small container to its hiding place.

At this point, after numerous high fives and a good rest in the shade beneath the tree, we decided it was best to begin our trek downward. Keeping a careful eye on the GPS, which was kind enough to trace our route up, we foraged back down the incline until we met with the path once more. Emma spoke excitedly of food, politics, and life; I, hot and tired, was content to listen. Finally, we reached the picnic area at the bottom, and after wading through the river--a very welcome experience--we decided to head back. We walked back along the trail, past the gatekeeper, who was kind enough to give us some water, and trudged along the dirt road until we hit the pavement, at which point a taxi came shortly along to drive us back into civilization.

Once at the bottom, we took a moment to orient ourselves and consider the correct bus route by stopping into a local pub for what amounted to the best beer I've had since I've been here. If any Santiagoans (Santiagans? Santeagaoans?) are reading this, Taberna Satira is located on Av. Las Condes, and although it's far, the Australs we ordered were cold, from the tap, and served in a proper schop (the chilean word for a draught glass, which I quickly committed to memory), and the empanadas were delicious. If you ever find yourself in the area, I suggest you check it out. 

Sorry this post has been long, hopefully it wasn't too much of a slog. There was a lot to talk about! Here's the link to the cache if anyone want's to check it out in further detail: http://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC268B_hill-1405

Until next time!

I've stayed in a hostel before - in the tiny mountain village of Grindelwald (very pretty; must go back) - but when you're on your own, you're in your twenties, and the majority of the other guests are not only also on their own and in their twenties but also Americans who are there by the same machinations as you...it's really a different experience. I know I keep making this comparison, but forgive me for making it once more: it's like a college dorm. Except that almost everyone has presumably already lived in a college dorm, and - more to the point - has practiced partying in a college dorm. You can imagine the chaos. The staff were incredible, though: I went back yesterday to hang out with my fellow teachers still apartment-hunting, and they let me get in on taco night. I'm hoping that I made at least a couple lasting friends among them. And on top of that, you obviously have people from all over the world traveling for all sorts of reasons, so you can really make some interesting friends. The australians in particular, I found, loved talking about Australia. I'd like to go there someday, too, but I'm trying to be cautious about making lofty travel aspirations before I've lived abroad even a full month. So I digress. One more note about the hostel: it was immensely fun, but the all-encompassing communal aspects can be exhausting, especially when you're trying to do something like find a clean plate, a clean pair of underwear, or an open spot in the fridge for a carton of eggs. When you're trying to live, basically.

So, it's nice to be in my own place.

And it's a nice place, too. To be perfectly honest, I'm ecstatic about it. It's on the 15th floor of an apartment complex with a southern-facing balcony. You can see the entire south side of the city; at night it's as gloriously luminous as you could hope to expect. Look left (east) and the Andes loom over all the tallest buildings. Inside, it's cozy - the "kitchen" is a disquieting flashback to the apartment from my junior year - but certainly livable. My bedroom has a desk, I get my own bathroom, and there's a little TV and a speaker with an auxiliary cable (which, admittedly, was a big selling point - along with the neighbors who don't mind loud music). I'm not about to pretend to know anything about furnishing and decorating, but I will say this: to my eye, it's been tastefully done. I feel like I'm living in a real home. And now it's mine, which is indescribably comforting. In no small part is that a result of my welcoming, patient roommate, Andrés.

If I'm being honest, HE was a big selling point. When I came to first see the apartment, I kept asking detailed questions about amenities and whatnot, until he finally stopped me and said, "if you take the apartment, everything here is yours." And that's been absolutely true. He's very good about sharing, both objects and labor. He's relaxed, and doesn't mind if you leave your dishes for tomorrow (although, given my history with dishes and general penchant for sloppiness, I've been trying to take care of cleaning ASAP). An anecdote to illustrate my point: when I moved in Thursday, I hung out on the balcony reading (DAD THIS NOOK IS INCREDIBLE) for a while, looking wistfully at his guitar. My hunger finally getting the better of me, I mustered the courage to forage for the supermarket. I bought rice, peppers, and a bottle of wine to share. When he got home with a 40oz bottle of beer, of course also to share, he showed me the "Chilean way to cook rice," which involved frying it in the pot before adding the water, diced my veggies for me while I stirred the rice, and when, after both bottles were depleted, I finally mustered the courage to mention the guitar, we spent a good ten minutes taking turns playing (or failing on my end) and singing Pink Floyd (his taste in music was yet another selling point). He used to be a contractor, but now he is in some form of food sales. He's got binders and folders and notes about his business cluttering his desk and all the living room shelves. And he's really into outdoor sports: a mountain bike hangs by it's front wheel from the balcony roof, climbing gear - helmets, shoes, chalk - sits idly on the top shelf, though I'm sure not for long, and along one wall are several pictures of him on top of various mountains - I have to remember to ask him which. I think he's 30 years old but he looks like he's 20. Overall, a very cool dude, whom I look forward to speaking in mediocre spanish with for the next several months.

That's it for now, I'll describe more about the city, my work, and my friends in another post. I'm not really sure how often I'll be updating, so for now keep an eye out. My guess is that by next week I will have written a little something else. Probably (hopefully) sooner, but I don't like to feel accountable - a word for which, incidentally, there is no direct spanish counterpart, so while I'm down here I feel perfectly justified in that statement.

FIRST!

First blog post!

I'm headed out to the market now to buy my produce for the week, so this one will be short. There's a really neat open-air market about 10 minutes away that has cheap, fresh produce. It's a lot of fun. Upstairs there are a lot of neat little restaurants: a few days ago I had ceviche for the first time ever and it was absolutely incredible.

I'll try and post some pictures or more stories soon, but for now accept the fact that this blog exists.

Ciao!