tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72687851774346127842011-04-21T11:06:56.000-07:00Through December 2007, I am a volunteer English teacher in the long, skinny nation of Chile. In South America, I am a "gringa". Some say gringa means English speaker, some say it means foreigner, and some say it's a name for white folks. I securely straddle all three categories, and so I embrace my inner (and outer) gringa and head south. These are my tales told for those who may become foreigners, those who already are, and those who want to watch as another learns how it's done.Meghannoreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-43177511124529432402007-10-30T16:37:00.000-07:002007-10-30T17:46:53.832-07:00

Hola everyone!I’m sorry I’ve been absent from blog world for awhile, but I’m back and ready to share some more of Chile with you! I hope you are all doing extremely well, and I look forward to hearing back from you in response to this entry. ¡Feliz Halloween!All my best,MeghanA Bewitching English ProfessorI think I’ll be a witch for Halloween this year. It’s not the most creative costume, but it’

Meghannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-66162482641926661032007-09-09T15:10:00.000-07:002007-09-09T16:08:03.941-07:00

The trees in my neighborhood are in full bloom and bursting with white and pink flowers. The back patio is my favorite spot to eat my homemade Chilean lunch. I haven’t used my hot water bottle to warm my bed for at least three weeks. I pulled out some summer work clothes to teach on Friday. These are all signs that it’s spring in Santiago, and I don’t care if I’m declaring it a bit early. I just

Meghannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-39820326480136502822007-08-22T09:40:00.000-07:002007-08-22T10:25:52.082-07:00

For North Americans, the “Latin” culture we imagine south of the border conjures images of hip-swiveling salsa dancing, burros carting loads on dusty streets, tortillas and tequila, dark skin and hair, long, layered skirts for dancing with a carnation pinned at the ear, spicy dishes, Catholicism, and big families fiestas with piñatas, cervezas and smiles. But Chile is not Mexico, and it’s not

Meghannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-91558726941415114862007-08-03T18:02:00.001-07:002007-08-03T18:34:18.810-07:00

Winter break is coming to an end, and I start teaching English again next week. I have a whole new semester to teach Chileans, live with Chileans, make friends with Chileans, and be Chilean. Well, I’ll always be gringa, but I can add a splash of Chilean. In fact, it seems like I’ve already added more than a splash of Chile to my gringa chemical make-up. Across the Andes Mountains and

Meghannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-36388084948051750832007-06-26T09:07:00.000-07:002007-06-26T10:10:57.424-07:00

Life in Chile is like a scuba-diving expedition. I feel like I’ve adapted to the water temperature and the idea of being completely immersed without needing to come up for air. I’m learning how to move my body so as to not disturb the sea life or its habitat while swimming. I’m able to relax and look around at the marvels around me in a new environment. Suddenly, I’m yanked to the surface and

Meghannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-83428125848130183112007-06-11T15:07:00.000-07:002007-06-11T16:12:14.719-07:00

It was professor evaluation week. I left the classroom 10 minutes early so my students could anonymously fill out evaluations about their gringa English professor. I handed the envelope of surveys to the first student on the roster, closed the classroom door behind me and let the reactions fly. If I were my student, I have no idea what I would write about me. I’d probably be pissed that my

Meghannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-2834005158638450132007-05-29T13:19:00.000-07:002007-05-29T14:41:13.763-07:00

Me and Ashleigh, another volunteer who teaches at my campus. A Santiago afternoon drinking mote con huesillo, (sweet and peach-flavored) a typical Chilean treat.A Santiago park in the late afternoon. Leaves are falling and falling in the city. Me and Kellie (another volunteer from California) at her family´s kitchen table in Concepcion, Chile last weekend. We were planning our English classes

Meghannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-75273495063208707312007-05-28T16:13:00.000-07:002007-05-28T16:38:45.495-07:00

Written on 5/27:I saw the entire country of Chile today. It was an impressive aerial view of the longest, skinniest country you could imagine, and it had everything. From north to south, Chile started as the expansive Atacama Desert and ended as frozen, glacier-enlaced islands approaching Antarctica. In between, there were mountains, lakes, islands, forests, beaches…a true geographical

Meghannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-27550464232545676482007-05-16T09:51:00.000-07:002007-05-16T10:06:43.519-07:00

I sleep with a hot water bottle. No, not a Nalgene water bottle I put in the microwave, not an Acuafina bottle with hot water in it, but an actual, rubber, hot water bottle. I still haven´t gotten over the potent rubbery smell that wafts to my nose while I´m laying in bed. My experience with hot water bottles consists of an image in my mind of a cartoon character propped up in bed with a

Meghannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-82604841931757310342007-05-02T20:10:00.000-07:002007-05-02T20:17:52.487-07:00

Written May 1:It's May Day, Chile's Labor Day. This Labor Day, I spent 5 hours on a bus from southerly Concepcion back to Santiago. I was visiting a Chilean girlfriend I met in Boston and another volunteer, Kellie, who both live there. I found that after I had done some lesson planning on the ride, I couldn't decide what do to with myself. It wasn't boredom, it was over-stimulation. For one,

Meghannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-31673763186995399082007-04-10T14:50:00.000-07:002007-04-10T15:40:06.088-07:00

I was given the same handout both times I prepared for life abroad. First, before I studied in Madrid, they told me life would be a “rollercoaster of adjustment”. This time, it was dubbed “the culture curve”: "initial euphoria”, then “irritation and hostility,” next, “gradual adjustment” and, finally, “adaptation and biculturalism.” All the volunteers of my program had a roaring laugh fest

Meghannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-60885840832506410742007-04-02T16:55:00.000-07:002007-04-02T18:51:49.705-07:00

Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean”, the orchestrated, elevator music version sounds in the café. I look across the table at Emily, another World Teach teacher, and our smirks turn into laughter. What a horribly cheesy rendition of an American classic. Or, Roger Waters comes to town and my neighborhood fills with groupies sporting their Waters t-shirts and piling into the near-by National

Meghannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-90330824846949795402007-03-17T15:23:00.000-07:002007-03-17T17:23:09.975-07:00

I'm sitting on the second floor of a cafe near my house sipping a leche con platano (milk blended with banana) and eating a marmalade-y pastry called palmeras. I'm the only one on the floor because I wanted to use the wireless internet that upstairs here. Why there's no one else here, I have no idea, and I think the waiter was a little pissed that he had to climb the stairs to take my order.

Meghannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-28927575357350282402007-03-11T14:18:00.000-07:002007-03-11T15:14:52.869-07:00

I´m looking at a ring on my hand. It´s the ring one of my English students in Boston gave me as a going away gift. Norma, a sweet Columbian mother, who insisted, on my last day with her class, that I pick from a collection of jewelry she made. The silver is still shiny and new, and I hope it brings me luck this week.I start teaching on Tuesday, and I´m nervous. I´ll be working at a school

Meghannoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-25093982990202382222007-02-25T13:02:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:18:15.944-08:00

My gringa girlfriends and I escaped the city center yesterday, and it was such a needed retreat. No pollution, no buses barreling down avenues, and no hostel. Thanks to my ever-gregarious fellow volunteer and Coloradoan, Kacey, four of us got invited to our first Chilean "asado" (BBQ). The asado is a staple of Chilean summer life and usually involves several courses of meat. It's all about the

Meghannoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-30955134433803010282007-02-20T17:10:00.000-08:002007-02-20T17:15:04.876-08:00

Hola everyone,I hope I have fixed the problems with the unviewable pics on my most recent blog posting, as well as the first posting. Thanks for the feedback, and please let me know if you still can't see them!Best,Your gringa

Meghannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-86696673605295882032007-02-18T20:01:00.000-08:002007-02-20T17:00:34.221-08:00

I’ve been living in a Santiago hostel with 20 other gringos for a little over a week now, but it seems more like a month. The room I share with 2 other volunteers is cluttered with overflowing suitcases, grocery sacks, towels, water bottles, books and coats. It’s our bedroom, storage room and pantry. Sometimes I get lucky with a warm shower at night, but the free breakfasts and maids who will

Meghannoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-91286508347004261612007-02-18T19:39:00.000-08:002008-01-30T11:27:57.252-08:00

Written on 2/16:She sighed and rolled her eyes slightly as she grabbed my bags of fruit. The grocery bagger girl had to go weigh the bags on the scale at the back of the grocery store to compensate for this gringa’s obliviousness. Meanwhile, I stood at the register holding up a whole line of hungry Chileans. I had NO idea what the cashier was trying to tell me about what was wrong, but now I know

Meghannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-79363512070549319942007-02-11T13:00:00.000-08:002007-02-20T17:09:42.141-08:00

Written on 2/8:About 5 days ago, I felt like I was having contractions. These contractions have come at shorter and shorter intervals this past year. No need for alarm, I haven’t been carrying a wee one for an abnormally long 12 months, these were nerve contractions for Chile. Selling my Boston things, securing paperwork, leaving the job, saying goodbye, flying back home, dreadfully long

Meghannoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7268785177434612784.post-70783276027194874982007-02-05T12:10:00.001-08:002007-02-05T12:10:56.894-08:00

Welcome to my online journal where I'll be recording my experiences during my upcoming transplant to Santiago, Chile, which starts February 8! The page is still a little bare, but I hope it will be bursting with memories, photos and stories by the year's end. Please leave comments on the site, because it would make my Chilean day to hear from you. Wish me luck, and thanks for your support!

Meghannoreply@blogger.com1