CAMINAR ES BUENO PARA LA VIDA ESPIRITUAL [WALKING IS GOOD FOR THE SPIRITUAL LIFE]

Buenas tardes, amigos de blog! It has been nearly two weeks since I last blogged, and I have a lot to share. A lot. A plenitude of homework has gotten me slightly behind in the blogging process and will more than likely restrict the length of this particular post. (Unless I end up too engrossed in my English blog post that I forget about my Spanish texts, which have been swept aside for the time being. The more that I think about the former sentence, the more probable it seems). As to prevent you from enduring more painful suspense and tension from eagerly anticipating the real meat of the blog, I'll begin.

Many of you may have heard about a recent adventure that I (unintentionally) undertook; others of you have been devoid of this exhilarating information.. that is, up until now. A few weeks ago, my gringo friends decided to have a little get-together at one of our Chilean homes. I was invited and gladly accepted the offer with great anticipation, minus one detail--how to get to said gringo's Chilean home. Because she lives relatively inaccessible by my preferred method of transportation, the metro, I was forced to take a method of transportation much more foreign to me. Wait for it... The. Micro. These public buses, packed with people like sardines and driven probably much faster than allowed by law, are a common form of transportation here in Valparaíso. And while I do enjoy a good micro ride every now and then, especially when the driver is blasting Michael Jackson's "Thriller," I am by no means a pro at determining their relaxed and go-wherever-the-heck-I-feel-like-taking-you routes. What I figured would be a fun, little adventure to attempt to take the micro to my friends house by myself for the second time with directions from a friend, ended up being not so fun and definitely not so little.

My other gringo friend, who will remain nameless for the time being (unless she fails to send some Bueno Bars my way), informed me to take one of the following Micros: #201, 202 or 205. That information was correct. She then told me to get off at La Iglesia del Pedro. That information, my fellow blog buddies, was not as correct. I dismounted the micro at said location and soon discovered, by calling my friends, that La Iglesia del Pedro was not my intended location of departure. Instead, La Iglesia de Piedra was the church that I had hoped to encounter. My friends, however, had no idea as to where the heck I was; and after nearly half an hour of discussion about my location, I decided to hop back on a daunting Micro that would take me home. (For those of you wondering, I later discovered that I was at the very, very top of Miraflores... not exactly the area I was aiming for).

What I thought would be an easy return back to my Chilean home turned into an adventure greater than I could have ever expected. I descended the cerro (hill) that is Miraflores, anxious to return home where I could fill my guatero with near-boiling water. This is the part in the story where the creepy music starts to play to provide the viewer with dramatic suspense. [Insert creepy music]. The bus started heading from Viña del Mar (where I live) towards Valparaíso (where I do not live). I figured that the micro would eventually swing back to Viña. Afterall, that is where I got on the stupid thing. My thoughts where incorrect. Once the conductor (driver) announced that this would be the last route for the night for that particular bus (apparently, not all micros run all night.. good to know), I hopped off the bus.

There is just one thing that you all should know.. I did not have sufficient funds to take another micro. 100 pesos short of another bus trip meant one thing for yours truly: walk. all. the. way. home. So, guess what I did. Walked. all. the. way. home. Yes, it was veryy long and tiring walk. Although the night life here in Chile goes until the wee hours of the morning and there are people walking the streets during all hours, it was still a little frightening to have to walk all the way home by myself. Needless to say, me and God got very close that night. There was a lot of hardcore praying going on. Who know that walking the streets of Viña and Valpo by yourself could be so beneficial for your spiritual life? I arrived at my house late that night, alive and in one pieces. Hallelujah. Gracias a Dios.

There you have it, the long awaited story of my first Chilean adventure. You should note, however, that I have since taken the micro multiple times with moderately more success than that night.

In other news, Classes are going well. I have my first major exam tomorrow.. yikes! It's hard to believe that I am already in my sixth week of classes here, while my fellow students at Messiah College have yet to begin theirs. I did officially drop my History of Culture class, mostly due to the fact that I have 17.5 credits without it. Speaking of classes, I should probably be get back to studying. I have written enough for today, anyway. Until next time...

Paz y amor,
JMF

PS: I did get bit by a spider, but that is another adventure story for another day. No, it was not a Chilean Recluse spider. Yes, I am still alive.

CASI UN MES! [ALMOST ONE MONTH!]

Again, I would like to begin by apologizing for the lack of tremendously exhilarating and on-the-edge-of-your-seat-ing posts. So, ¡lo siento muchisimo! I also feel that I should provide you with a proper disclaimer, because I really don't have any idea where this blog post is going or where it will end up. "Just sayin.'"

Life in Chile is still great! I'm heading into my fourth week here and I cannot believe it has been that long since I got on a plane to live 5198.20 miles away from home for five months. Wow, really? Although I miss a mountain of things from home (i.e, consistently hot showers, central heating, REAL Double Stuf Oreos, properly functioning wireless Internet, and, of course, my loving family & girlfriend), there are things that I love about Chile that the U.S. should take a hint from (i.e., empanadas, a lack of regard for punctuality, public transportation, and a population people who open their houses, pantries, and hearts for you even if you decline multiple times). Anywho, what I'm trying to say is that despite being without many of the things that bring me comfort and joy back home, I have really fallen in love with this country and its people.

I am already starting my third week of classes, which is hard to believe on its own. Add to that the fact that we haven't even passed the midway point of August and it starts to sound even crazier . As for classes, I am currently signed up for 20 credits, and will probably drop one of the classes. Here's the UNofficial list so far:

Spanish Communication and Chilean Culture
Advanced Grammar for Foreigners
Twentieth Century Chilean Poetry
History of Latin America During the Twentieth Century
History of Culture

My history of culture will probably be the one that gets the boot. Tuesday will be the first (and probably last) day that I have the class; last week was supposed to be the first week of history classes, but due to a "corte de agua," I thankfully regretfully did not have to sit through that class. We shall see how it goes tomorrow. As for the rest of my classes, I have no complaints. My Chilean Poetry professor could try to modulate her words, not give us 120 pages of poetry to read a week, and not talk to the blackboard the entire time. Like I said, no complaints here.

In regards to learning Spanish, a nearly mutually understood conversation at the metro station the other day with the man processing my student discount card has me feeling not too shabby. Although there are times (like at Jumbo a week ago), when I struggle to even remotely recognize a Spanish word in someone's sentences. When in doubt, say "no." I have 4 more months to work up to being able to understand almost everything. Bring. it. on.

Well, that's all I have for right now. I'm off to read (a lot) of Pablo Neruda. Un montón de gracias a mi profesora. (A mountain of thanks to my professor).

Paz y Amor,
JMF

A TRÁVES DE LOS OJOS DE UN GRINGO [through the eyes of a foreigner]

Lo siento, but it has been a while since the last time I got to writing. So much has happened since I left the States and blogged from the Detroit Metro Airport. In case you haven't already figured out from Facebook, friends and family, or myself that I am safe and sound 5,000 miles away from home, I am. After a rocky plane landing through dense fog and a visibility of nearly zero, we landed in Arturo Merino Benítez International Airport in Santiago at approximately 7:39 a.m. We spent the morning going through customs, meeting the ISA staff, exchanging our US Dollars for Chilean Pesos, and getting to know each other.

We spent the remainder of the week in Santiago exploring, touring, and learning (oh, and freezing). Because it's winter here and because the majority of Chileans do not have central heating in their houses, hotels, or apartments, I along with many of my other gringo friends have been freezing our little American butts off. Every morning I dread the fresh, cold air that is waiting for me when I emerge from under my five blankets. I run to the shower, and wait for the calefont [water heater] to warm the water, while I stand there freezing. All I can think about is warmth. Although this has the potential to be something about the country that really upsets me, it doesn't. I'm amazed by the incredible amount of energy Chileans save; maybe the U.S. could learn a thing or two or three....

I met my host family last Sunday, the 25th, after a bus ride into Valparaíso, watching the sun set on this beautiful port city. The family is really wonderful and my Chilean mom is grrreat (just like Frosted Flakes). However, they typically do not draw out their syllables like Tony the Tiger. Which brings me to my next topic... the language. Since I arrived in Chile, the running joke here has been the great difference between the Spanish language and the Spanish that Chileans speak, which are two. completely. different. things. The ISA staff and even the International Director at my university are constantly saying things like, "Don't worry, it's not you. It's us," and "I'm sorry, I speak Chilean, but I'll try to speak Spanish for you during this presentation." Chilean Spanish has literally hundreds and hundreds of slang words and phrases that are completely unique to the area (Chilenismos). If you think that makes it hard enough, just wait. Chileans are notorious for being some of the fastest speakers in all of Latin & South America, are constantly drop the "s" of words ending as such, and often change the "tú" form of words. Example: ¿Cómo estás? = ¿Cómo estai? HUH!? Anywho, it's been fun (yet sometimes frustrating) to make an attempt to understand and communicate. It's like learning Spanish all over again, but I kind of like it.

That's all I have for now. More updates to come... Stay tuned!

Paz y Amor,
JMF