update

I’ve tried not to dwell too much on how comically unfit the conditions are here for teaching, and I’ve been able to do this, at least blog-wise, by not posting anything at all. (My apologies if you’ve been checking in; things should be picking up soon.) That said, it’s been a challenge: in past weeks I’ve had to come to terms with many of my own cultural mores; things I once considered standard--matters of professional responsibility, mutual respect, whatnot--have all been frustrating indications of my lack of cultural fluency. The whole ceremony of indirectness, the excuses that are childishly transparent—I’ve come to accept this as just the way people operate down here, and by doing so, I’ve been able to appreciate them all the more. This, if anything, is what cultural exchange is truly about.

Valparíso

Our tenure with English Opens Doors comes to an end this Friday, coinciding with the Chilean day of independence. Flags have popped up all over the place, which has made Dacia grumble anti-patriotically. After ten weeks of being proverbial door-openers and occasional door-mats, we are excited to travel again, anxious to celebrate a little independence of our own. The next stop will be Buenos Aires, where I’ll take some Spanish classes and enjoy coffee again. (For those who don’t know: Chileans only drink instant coffee, which is just coffee-flavored kool-aide that you choose to warm up.) Before Argentina, however, we’ll be spending some time with my family in New York, then a quick visit to Germany. But more on that later.

Pacific, near Cón Cón

As complicated as my experience has been, I’ll be sad to leave. I’ve had the chance to meet some really amazingly people and connect with them, more or less, in my Village Elder Spanish (one-word profundities organized by an avant garde grammar). One thing, though, that has really made an impression on me is the relationship people here have to their music. We’ve met many people who have dedicated their lives to creating music, and you can see how it provides them with an outlet, a sanctuary from otherwise undesirable conditions. The most poignant example of this would be Esteban. Last Saturday Dacia and I were invited to his house for dinner and it turned out to be quite a moving experience. Esteban is a soft spoken man in his early forties, always smiling and without an ounce of vanity in his body. You'd never know it by his pleasant demenor, but he has the absolute worst job at Dacia’s school, where he spends ten to twelve hours a day performing menial tasks like photocopying tests (which is an extremely complicated and stressful thing here) and taking the brunt of everybody’s anger. That night, though, we were treated to hours of the most heart-wrenching music. Sitting in his living room we watched Esteban transform. He'd just pull out guitar after guitar—all of them different sizes, different personalities—and without saying a word, he'd begin. Song after song, the sound of Estéban took shape; it articulated who he really was, what he really wanted in life, and how there was nothing complicated about this.

Esteban

Thanks for reading. Check out Dacia's blog if you get a chance:
http://daciachristin.blogspot.com