What a difference a day makes! To celebrate our last night in Olmué (a.k.a. Latin American Purgatory), the hotel staff decided to challenge our gringo group to a game of fútbol. We got really strange looks by the European students also staying in our hotel, as we were all dressed in shorts and t-shirts in winter at 11:00 pm (see the photo of Mr. Jack Kelly below). I will never forget a girl from Hamburg, Germany telling us "I always knew Americans were crazy, but football at 11:00 pm?!" After following some guys we assumed were our opponents down numerous dirt roads (and thinking to ourselves - are we getting kidnapped right now?), we got to the soccer field and split into our respective teams. We began taking funny pictures of our random and quasi-uncoordinated team, until I looked over and the hotel staff has matching fleeces, shin guards, and cleats on! Okaaay, David Beckham! I thought this was just a friendly game of fútbol?!
The next day we went hiking in La Campana national Park. The scenery was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, with green trees covering every inch of mountain and cactus plants everywhere. However, that's all I remember because I woke up the same morning with a cold and my only concern was where I was going to blow my nose next.
We finally packed up our things and said adios - forever, I hope - to the sad and depressing town of Olmué. Driving towards Valparaíso/Viña del Mar was intriguing, driving past shantytowns as well as houses that would be deemed acceptable to appear on "Real Housewives of Olmué." We probably passed about ten dirt soccer fields, half of which were being played in and reminded me of those commercials they always play during the World Cup. You know what I'm talking about - the kids who don't have much and probably aren't wearing shoes but are too damn happy to care because they have a soccer ball and a patch of land to kick between their non-shoe-wearing friends. The biggest difference I noticed, which everyone on the bus found entertaining and equally ridiculous for me to take note of, was the lack of interest in taking care of the land. Sure, no one cares about a manicured lawn or a perfectly fixed fence in all parts of the world, but why does it look like someone's using this countryside as a landfill? Why doesn't anyone do anything about it? I wouldn't deem myself America's Most Caring and Responsible Treehugger 2011, but what does it take for people to think that it's okay just to let conditions get worse, and what triggers another person to clean it up? Why does it exist in some places and not in others? I know that's really odd to think about, but I can't help but think of how and why it's there and always will be. You'll come to learn that I think too much sometimes.
Our bus pulled into the parking lot of a horse racing stadium in Viña del Mar where all of our host families were waiting with big smiles and even bigger hugs. I finally met my mother, Marisol, and my host sister, Paulina, who just turned 23. They drove me around Viña del Mar, showing me the much more exciting and lively town, eventually leading to our neighborhood. We have an amazing house, with an avocado tree in the backyard and a perfect view of the ocean from our street. I have a sunken bedroom and a TV of my own, one of which I was never allowed to have as a kid (in your face, Mom! Just kidding... I miss you).
Today we picked up my other sister, Catalina (24), from the bus station and watched the final game of the American Cup while waiting for her. Besides Uruguay whoopin' Paraguay's butt, I noticed everyone staring at me like I was E.T. - something our orientation directors warned us about. We ate a late lunch at an Italian restaurant, where I was handed some pisco sours and red wine. Dilemma! While I wanted to finish it all and not be rude, I also didn't want to be that drunk gringa on the second day at whom they all looked back on and laughed. The next moment I find myself in Viña's huge casino, playing slots with my family. To be honest, it was kind of a blur of smoke and screens and computer game noises. We then visited a family member's apartment where I got to meet some super cute, young kids who speak Spanish better than I do. That's always comforting. Trying to speak a second language with people you've just met while interacting with little kids is already hard enough, but under the influence? Ayyy.
I love my family. They're extremely understanding, helpful, and patient with me when I probably come off like a total bimbo. Speaking of, I've had a pretty interesting experience with showers here. This is what a typical shower in Chile is like for me:
1). Turn on the hot water. Wait for it to get hot. Turn on the cool water to get to the perfect temperature.
2). Get in the shower.
3). Suddenlyit'sFREEZING! You might as well be bathing in ice water. Turn the cold water down a millimeter.
4). Ahhh okay. That's better. Put on some shampoo, stand under th-ohmygodit's SCALDING HOT. Your scalp and back probably have first degree burns by now. Turn down the hot water a millimeter.
5). Repeat steps 3 - 4.
The bad part is, if there's anything I've learned about every other country, it's that water and electricity are both very pricey. I don't want to waste my family's resources or money, but at the same time, being naked under extreme conditions isn't my definition of enjoyable.
That's all for now. I'm going to get ready for bed and wash my face with Antarctic water. Buenas noches.
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