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.
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