The End

Well, here you have it. Five months in Chile has gone by in a blur and it is now time for me to depart and head back to the mother land. Unfortunately, my plans for leaving have kind of been thrown into an uproar since my counsins were diagnosed with the H1N1 virus. Yay! My aunt, uncle, and cousins were supposed to be leaving today and then I was to meet them in Santiago tomorrow, but then the boys got sick. By law they had to be isolated for 7 days after the diagnosis and so that threw the Bolick's travel plans out the window. We, and a lot of people back home, have been praying that none of us get it and have to delay the trip even further, but so far we are all still perfectly healthy and so grateful for all the people who have been praying for us. The family is now leaving next Sunday, and I am still leaving for Santiago tomorrow and the U.S. on Tuesday provided that I don't come down with the flu between now and then. It figures that I have been looking forward to this day for a long time and now that it's finally here I wish it wasn't. I think having to say goodbye to people does that to you. I have fallen in love with the people down here and I am going to miss them a ton. Yesterday my aunt and I went to a big gathering of all the Girls' Clubs in the area. Once a year they all get together and have a big day retreat where they can all get together and get to know each other. We were only there for about an hour just to say goodbye to everyone and to the girls, but that hour just about killed me. As soon as we walked in we were put up in front of all the girls to say our hellos and goodbyes and then they kept us in front to give us both a going away present and then they all stood up and sang a sending off song. It was so sweet and the both of us were standing there trying our best not to lose it. After they sang it was pretty much a mob to the front where we had to say goodbye to all the girls and the leaders and kiss everyone. It was wonderful, but it just makes me sad to have to leave. The other night some of the Bolick's good friends were over just to hang out and one of them paid me one of the highest compliments ever. He said that is was a shame I had to leave so soon because it was obvious that I belonged in their circle of friends. Five months really was a bad length of time. I have found that it takes about 5 months to really start to feel comfortable in another country and culture and to start finding your niche, but now that I have just started to feel comfortable and truly connected, it's time for me to leave. It really is a shame. I know that I have not always had the best attitude about this trip and my experiences here, but I do know that it was all worth it. God blessed me with this opportunity and I will never forget it. I am sure that I have grown and changed since I have been here, though I'm not sure I will really realize the extent of that until I get home. Either way, I am heading off tomorrow and will be home very shortly. I'm very excited to get home and see everyone, but I will definitely miss Chile and all of the people here who will always have a place in my heart.

Well, I have kind of lost track of time here and didn't even realize how long it had been since I have blogged. Yikes! Well, let's see. Things are going pretty well here. I'm getting out of the house a little more which has been great. There is a group of 10 English kids here for a couple months on a missions trip and I've gotten to hang out with them a bit which has been a lot of fun. When I say kids though, I mean two of them are my age and the rest are 18/19. The national dance of Chile is the cuaca and so I have been going to a cuaca class with these English kids for the past 3 weeks. It's just slightly ridiculous. You see, the cuaca is a dance of conquering. The man, a.k.a. the rooster, is trying to conquer the woman, a.k.a. the hen. Our instructors keep stressing the importance of maintaining eye contact with your partner, smiling, and, of course, flirting. Now, you tell a bunch of 18 year old English kids to maintain eye contact and flirt and you have a room full of very uncomfortable and giggly teenagers. It's kind of hysterical. Also, I don't know what it is, but there seems to be some kind of underlying social obligation, that whenever there is an English person and an American person hanging out together, they have to, at some point, have the whole "who is better" arguement. Now, usually, the person with homefield advantage wins, but we're on completely neutral turf here in Chile, which could hypothetically make this the SuperBowl, but the point is, we all have an equal chance of winning. Despite my best arguements, some of them viable some of them not, I still manage to lose just on account that there are 10 of them and only 1 of me. Unfair! This week, I was getting ready to dance a round with one of the guys and he said, "This is all wrong! She's American, she should be conquering me!" I pretty much died, but at the same time fulfilled my social obligation by acting fake offended. I have to say that there is nothing that will draw attention faster on the streets of Temuco than a bunch of white, and mostly blond, kids running around.

A Chilean's plan for Dani's life

About a month ago the family was going to be out of town on a weekend where I needed to stay in town and so, I was handed over to our friend/housekeeper, Erika, and her husband, Lord, to be looked after/babysat for the weekend. I was rather apprehensive about this stay in an all Spanish speaking house, but it turned out to be pretty fun. Sunday morning as we were eating breakfast before church, Lord, who is an extremely charismatic individual, came up with an entire plan for my life before breakfast was over. The whole thing started when he asked me what I studied in university. I told them I studied Media Communications and Theater, and that is where the wheels started turning in Lord's brain. First, a little historical background.

Chile was ruled by a dictator, Pinochet, from 1973-1990 and during his rule he closed many schools, art schools and regular schools combined. This means that not only do a lot of the people I meet here who grew up during that time have very limited education due to the fact that Pinochet closed down their school, but also, young people in Chile have grown up in a country with no real history of the arts.

With this in mind, Lord formed his plan. What I am going to do, according to Lord, is become a missionary to Chile with my mission being to open up a Christian Arts school for kids to come and learn about the arts and get Christian mentoring. I told him I only really studied theater, but this was of no discouragement to Lord Merino. Oh no. He just looked at me and said, "Well, you had to have learned to paint sets and all that stuff right?". I explained I took one class in technical theater. "Wonderful," he said. "You can teach acting, painting, sculpting, and I know you can sing and play guitar so you can teach that too!" Wonderful! All I could really do was sit there and listen to him and this grand plan he had for my life.

After breakfast we went to church where I was doing an English class for the girl's club. I have a couple English songs I teach all the clubs so I played the guitar and we had a little sing-a-long time. After church the Merinos had some friends come back to the house for lunch and while we were waiting for lunch, the ladies said to the men, "Oh goodness, you didn't get to hear Dani sing in the girl's club this morning! Quick! Pull out the guitar and we'll have her sing to everyone!" So, there I was, serenading everyone before lunch quickly followed by Lord explaining to the company his plan for my life. Come evening, a different couple and their son came over for dinner and I was once again made to serenade the group, yikes, and Lord once again explained my life calling. I noticed throughout the day that his plan, and my experiences had quickly been growing and expanding. At breakfast, Lord had an idea for my life, by lunch it was a plan, and by dinner it was my calling. Also, at breakfast I had studied communications and theater, by lunch the communications part no longer mattered and I had only studied theater, and by dinner I was an actor. I was a little worried that I had somehow given them the wrong impression and led them to think I was actually a professional actor in the states, but my aunt assured me that this is just a cultural thing. In Chile, what you study is what you are. It doesn't matter if you have actually worked as that a day in your life, but if you study it and have a degree in it, then that is what you are. You study Political Science, like my aunt, and you're a political scientist; Journalism and you're a journalist; Biology and you're a biologist; Theater and you're an actor. Thankfully, I survived the weekend and the steam has kind of gone out of my "life calling", but I now know that if I am ever at a loss for what to do in my life, or just need someone to run promotions work for me, Lord and Erika Merino are the people to call.

Tomorrow is my cousin Jack's 10th birthday and so last night he had two friends over to spend the night and have their own little birthday party. Unfortunately, this party just happened to coincide with my uncle being out of town and my aunt having a meeting here at the house. The job, therefore, fell to me to take the boys to the mall and entertain them for a few hours. Thankfully, my aunt suggested I take along one of my own friends to help balance out the madness that is three 10 year old boys. The day started with the ever so popular game, "Dani chasing the boys around the house and trying to catch them accompanied by trumpets of laughter and screaming". Once everyone was officially worn out, me included, we headed to the mall. The mall here is less than 5 years old and is complete with a kids adventure center, movie theater, and mini bowling alley. Jack loves bowling so we took his friends for a rousing bowling game. As far as I know, this is the only bowling alley in town and the people of Temuco, and possibly Chile in general, have grown up with absolutely no working knowledge of bowling and how it is to be played. As much good as it does for my self-esteem to be automatically viewed as a tremendous bowler, it is a little sad to watch the young and old alike not having a clue how to hold, let alone throw, a bowling ball. Our first young man, Felipe, would stand back at the starting line, swing the ball behind his back, then hold it behind him in his outstretched arm till he got up to the throwing line. Then, he would violently swing it forward and let go at such a point as the ball would go straight up in the air and then proceed to come violently crashing down onto the floor and head for the gutter. My friend threw with her body completely sideways and Jack's other friend, well, it's hard to pin-point exactly what his problem was. After bowling, we walked around the arcade for a while before heading back home. When we got back to the house, it was almost 8:30 and time for pizza and a movie. Needless to say, I didn't get to bed till late, and the boys even later. The difference is that I didn't get up 10:30 while they got up at 7. This of course meant that we had 3 1/2, I'm including my 4 year old cousin William as the half, very tired boys who claimed they weren't tired still wanting another rousing game of "Dani chasing the boys around the house and trying to catch them accompanied by trumpets of laughter and screaming" and Dani and Aunt Barb counting down the minutes till the boys went home and we could crash. Basically, great birthday, but I'm exhausted and need to go to bed. Nighty night!

My "pop" across the border

When I entered the Chile I was given a 90 day tourist visa. Well, Saturday was day 90 for me so I needed to either pay $100 to renew it, or simply "pop" over the border to Argentina and get another 90 days upon my return. Sounds simple enough right? Wrong.

Thursday and Friday were a holiday in Chile and so we took advantage of this time to take a little family vacation into the mountains close to the Argentinian border so we could have a little fun and renew my visa in one trip. We got to the beautiful little mountain town of Malalcahuello on Wednesday and checked into a very quaint and beautiful Swiss hostel run by actual Swiss people. Really fun. The next morning my uncle and I got up early, had breakfast, and began what we though would be a 2, maybe 3, hour trip across the border. First of all, it took us an hour to get to the border in a huge rain storm, and when we finally got there it was unlike anything I could have expected. I'm used to crossing the international border between Canada and the U.S. where you just drive through a nice little check point and bang, you're done. Not so at this border crossing. First you have to stop at the Chilean custom office, pull over, and go in the building. Now, contrary to what I had thought, this wasn't actually the border. No no. This was just the check point to leave Chile. I had to wait in line and get a nice little stamp in my passport saying that I had left Chile. Then, we had to get back in the car and drive an additional 15 miles to the border, and an additional 3 to get to the Argentinian check point. My uncle couldn't go across the border for some reason so he pulled over and let me go in while he just sat in the car. When I got into the office there were about 25 people in front of me in line with one man getting them through. Not to mention the fact that the power was out so he was trying to do all this in the dark, with no computer, and just writing information down on pieces of paper. When I finally got to the front of the line I had to try and explain to this man in my rough Spanish why I wanted to go into Argentina, turn around, and leave. It did not go smoothly, but at least the power came back on while I was talking to him. He stamped my passport saying I had entered Argentina and then I had to go outside, turn around and come in the other side of the building. By this time I was getting very funny looks from the rest of the border crossing officials and had to go through the entire process again to leave Argentina. I was in there for an hour and a half with me just standing in line and my poor uncle waiting for me in the car. We then had to get back in the car and drive the 18 miles back to the Chilean office to re-enter Chile before the process was over. We were gone for 6 hours! Yikes!

Thankfully though the town of Malalcahuello is known for its hot springs. Oh yeah! After the stressful and disastrous trip across the border, we all went to the hot springs and had a wonderful time hanging out at the lovely Swiss hostel. Overall, great little holiday, but if anyone ever says to just "pop" over the border to renew your visa, do the opposite and just pay the fee.

How to shock a Chilean

There are many differences I have noticed between the U.S. and Chile. I have mentioned some of these, but what I often forget is that Chileans find our culture just as odd as I find there's. And so, in light of these revelations, I have compiled an ever growing list of things I do, and have done, that end up shocking a Chilean.

#1: Smile and say good morning to a person you pass on the street.
This is never, ever, under any circumstances done. Chileans are taught, and brought up, to blend in. Unless they are just the worst kind of social rebels, their hair, clothes, and even the way they carry themselves is designed to blend in with the rest of the population. This is somewhat a reflection on the collective culture they have as opposed to our vastly individualistic culture. In the U.S., every individual is valued and wants to stand out. So, if you are walking on the street or in the mall in the U.S. and you happen to make eye contact with a stranger in passing, it is perfectly acceptable to smile and say hello or in someway acknowledge the other person's presence. This is not done in Chile. You ignore people and they ignore you. That's just the way it's done. I have forgotten this many a time and find myself making eye contact and smiling with strangers I pass on the street. They look at me like I've got a third eye or they're scared I'm going to mug them.

#2: Unexpectedly make a funny face.
I think this goes along with the whole "not wanting to stand out" thing, but also the fact that Chileans are very well put together people. We are extremely sloppy in comparison. This is probably more of a Western U.S. thing than an entire U.S. thing, but the women here will get all dressed up to go to the grocery store. Not trying to look your best is a wonder to them. You combine this with the fact that you are purposefully trying to make yourself look terrible, and you have one shocked Chilean. My mom's family has something they call the Stroup Sloop. (See picture below for reference.) Ridiculous, yes, but my cousins think it's hysterical and they now have me show all the adult Chileans who come over. You would think I had just thrown up on their shoes. They get this look that says, "Oh my gosh! Why would you do that? Oh, put that away! Put that away!" Funny faces. Good way to shock a Chilean.

#3: Tell them where I went to college.
As a part of the collective culture, family is extremely important to Latin Americans. I am beginning to appreciate and like this aspect of the culture, though it is extremely foreign to us North Americans. It is extremely common for unmarried men or women in their 30's to still be living at home. If they don't have a reason to go, why would they? This is the mindset, and parents will hold on to their kids like there is no tomorrow. In normal conversations with people, they'll ask me about college. What did I study, what was the name of the school, and then the, what they mean as a rhetorical question, "and you lived at home with your parents?" I then have to interrupt them and correct their assumption that I had lived at home while I went to college. They are surprised. "Really? Well you were in same state though right?" I then have to tell them that I went to college in Canada and 3000 km away from my house. Oh my word. As soon as they hear this they look equally fascinated and horrified that at the tender age of 18 I went 3000 km away from home to go to school, and that my parents had let me on top of that! Every time I mention this to our housekeeper she shakes her head, says "Not my son! He's my baby. He's staying at home with me forever.", and holds an imaginary 20 year old Gustavo to her chest. I always love when people ask me about my college experience because I know what is going to come next and enjoy it immensely.

There are many odd differences that I've noticed between Chile and the U.S. One that I find particularly interesting is that though I can sort of/kind of play the guitar, I wouldn't be able to play a song if a Chilean handed me a song with all the chords. This is because they actually have different names for music notes down here. I thought it was pretty much a standard thing, but evidently I was wrong. Instead of using the C-D-E-F, etc. system, they actually named their notes Do-Ra-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do. So crazy. One of the men here kept telling me to play the Fa chord and I had no idea what he was talking about. I had to count it out on my fingers to figure it out. "Oh, you want me to play an F"? Then he didn't know what I was talking about. As far as I knew the whole Do-Ra-Mi thing came from Sound of Music, but evidently I was wrong.

Another interesting thing is the way they view black people. It's quite shocking for someone like me who grew up learning about racial prejudice in a country with a vast history of racism. Chile on the other hand never had slavery. Correction, they did have slavery, but since the Spaniards enslaved the native people when they came they had no need to bring in slaves from Africa. For this reason, there are no black people in Chile. Well, there may be some, but they are either visiting from Brazil, who did enslave Africans, or their family has immigrated here. Either way, you will be hard pressed to find any black people in Chile. Because there is no negative history between Chileans and Africans, unlike the U.S., they have a very innocent and different way of viewing them. For instance, a common pet name for people with darker skin tones is Negrito/a. A local pastor calls his wife negrita because she has darker skin than he does. This isn't a derogatory term or a put down in any way, it's just a statement of fact that they have dark skin. We went to a lunch on Saturday where they served chocolate cake for dessert. The lady across from me held up her piece, told me it was African cake, and started laughing. I didn't get it, but I laughed as if I had. My aunt then leaned over to me and said it was because the cake was black. As much as I wanted to think this comment was in extremely bad taste, she reminded me that since they have no concept of being racist against blacks, that this was a perfectly acceptable comment to make.