I told my mom that I was going to go for a walk but I'm a little bit too much in love with my room to leave it quite yet. And since I still have a few hours before my (host mom? It feels so awkward calling her that because she's too young to be my mom) host person comes back and we will go purchase essentials like cell phones and metro cards I thought I'd write things down while the emotions were still fresh.
I met a few girls in the same program as me on the plane so we stuck together, which made navigating customs and taxis a lot less scary (because DEAR GOD, all of a sudden people insist on only speaking spanish). The baggage guy, probably seeing that I was lost and bewildered and thus clearly from America started speaking to me in rapid fire spanish that I could not comprehend. Finally he stopped, clearly said "Obama!" and started dancing a jig (I swear to god). Then he pointed at another guy, yelled "Obama!" again, and that guy danced an even better jig. I love this country. I, of course, haven't even seen the inauguration yet because I was flying.
The drive from the airport so far has been my only view of Santiago. In my opinion it is a mix between Russia, America, and Mexico, although since those are my only reference points, that doesn't really say much. There's a Shell station on every corner and lots of ads everywhere. Copious amounts of public transportation and strange road rules. I saw a few Chinese restaurants and felt like I was driving by my own people. There are areas that look like East Palo Alto and some that are completely stunning. Will be bombarding everyone with pictures as soon as I lose my fear of getting lost and not being able to find my way back. Because you KNOW it'll happen, it's just a matter of when.
We arrived at our student center which is located at La Católica (one of the universities, though not the one I will be attending) a little bit after noon and were immediately picked up by our families. I kind of thought there would be a mass orientation before that was to happen so it was kind of shocking when a woman walked up to me and instantly kissed me on the cheek. Which I'm slowly getting used to. Because they do that here. All the time. Every time, in fact.
I live with a woman whose name is Macarena (soon, I will stop giggling. It's actually a common name in Spain and other Latin American countries), and she is beautiful and incredibly nice and has a lovely home. She also lived in New Jersey for 2 years and helps me when I don't remember certain words. She has a 9 year-old son, Diego, whom I haven't met yet, and a boyfriend whose name I didn't catch. This boyfriend is awesome though. He speaks perfect english despite never being to an english-speaking country, knows the origins of my name (including Fok, the origins of which I found out myself only a few days ago), and can write my name in Russian. Apparently he also wants to practice his German on me, because I didn't get a chance to tell him that I don't remember a stitch of it.
My room is incredibly charming. It's relatively simple but it has hardwood floors and a door that isn't just a slab of wood, which is really all I need in a room. I'm currently sitting on the bed and trying not to succumb to its wonderful horizontalness. But I have no alarm clock, so sleeping is not an option.
The only negative aspect is that my stomach has gone on strike ever since Monday night, but the same thing happened during my first Davis orientation so it's probably just extreme nerves. That hasn't stopped me from enjoying amazing juice of a totally mysterious fruit. According to some blog, I can buy a HUGE bowl of raspberries here for something like $5. Will be exploring this option pronto. CHEAP FRUIT!!! Oh the possibilities.
***Several hours later***
I went with Macarena to get a cell phone, a BIP card (named for the noise it makes when you use it to pay for the metro/bus), and copies of the keys. We also stopped by a supermarket to get a few groceries. OH MY GOD THERE IS SO MUCH JUICE. I may just have to OD on fruit and fruit related products. The milk is all in carton packaging and none of it is refrigerated, which my alarmist mother has scared me half to death about.
Tomorrow morning I have my first meeting with the rest of the group. Until then,
Ciao.
Posts
