I've been more than looking forward to being home for a lot of reasons, one being that I didn't really jive with the southern hemisphere situation and missed seasonally appropriate fall and winter, but another reason was because I'd get to change my clothes. For almost 4 months I had the same 4 outfits, almost all of which I donated in Valparaiso. The last few days I had been wearing a gray pair of pants with two holes in the crotch, two buttons missing from the waist tab closure, and a ripped belt loop, it felt satisfying to leave them in Pucon. What I came home with was a pair of black leggings, a black dress to go over the leggings and a cardigan to match, a few t-shirts, my yoga pants and two sun dresses. I couldnt remember exactly what clothes I had left in my apartment but it was a huge ikea bag and I knew I would be like a kid at Christmas tearing through it all.
So when I got home and couldnt find the bag the excitement was even heightened, a melange of Christmas and Easter, I had to hunt for the bag in a tiny NYC apartment. Unfortunately when I finally found it, there were no pants were in the bag. So here I am in New York, it's cold, and for four days, I have a pair of black leggings to wear.
To be completely honest I have one other pair of dress pants hanging in the coat closet. I bought them just before I left when I had been about 10 pounds lighter. I know I could wear these pants, but the idea of trying them on and finding them too tight is not an appealing idea. I know they will be too tight, but they could range anywhere from unzippable to just taut.
So its probably a good thing that Sylvain and I went to the gym last night, we got our workout on, and had a nice walk through Harlem. My contract ended in November but because I wasnt here to officially cancel my membership Ive already paid for December. Sylvain was impressed, I'm a member at Planet Fitness and my Harlem branch just opened last year so almost everything is still fresh and new, its only 20 bucks a month and I can also bring a guest for free. I dont think any city will ever feel as much like home as NY. Its true, Im ready to move on, but there are things like my gym which I wont find in France, at least not for $20 a month. Americans are gym people, we start in school and we keep going, in France they dont have teams in school, and everyone smokes anyway so no one really works out, Sylvain is an exception to the working out aspect of the equation. While there are sure to be gyms in Paris they wont be cheap, and they probably wont come with a free guest pass. In London when I went to the gym, you had to buy a membership and in addition pay a fee between 2 and 4 dollars every time you used it depending on whether you wanted to swim or use the treadmill and whether it was a peak hour or not. I'm going to miss working out at Planet Fitness. I'm also going to miss my blackberry. I will probably have some sort of pay as you go hand me down phone from Sylvain, but I wont have the luxuriousness of email, internet, camera and phone all in one. We have a free but unfurnished apartment lined up in Paris, which is great, but knowing that I have a whole furnished- and nicely furnished apartment here in NYC makes it kind of a bummer, we could live like the adults we are, but in all likelihood we will have a pull-out couch and some random furniture Sylvain might be able to nab from home along with a spare kitchen and none of the art I have here. Frankly though, like Chile its only for a few months, and poor or not, I'll still be living in Paris.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
36 hours of traveling
We popped a Tylenol Pm on the Tur Bus back to Santiago and 12 hours later feeling as rested as anyone could on a sleeper bus, we found ourselves a taxi, or rather a taxi man found us and we headed to the airport where we would have about a 14 hour wait for our flight to New York. We had literally given the taxi man the last of our money,
The second we dropped our bags and sat down I went to go "freshen up" but when I went to the bathroom I realized my dop bad was missing, I was upset. The thing about dop bags is not the makeup, toiletries and assortment of pills they carry but the sheer cost of it all. I almost never wear make-up, but I own it, and I had just purchased a barrage of pills which after all, add up. I estimated the cost to be no less than $200. Since Im skint, and a lot of the items would have to be replaced (like my contacts) it was a serious drag. After about an hour sitting there, with each of us taking turns as luggage watchdog and airport walker Sylvain went to see if we could get wifi somewhere, we could just upstairs and so we gathered our luggage, 7 pieces in all, and low and behold, my dop bag is lodged underneath the pile. Whew.
So we collect ourselves and find a couch set up at Gatsby's the restaurant where we spent the next 10 hours. Having withdrawn some money we were able to eat overpriced and underdelicious food. Within 20 minutes we needed to recharge batteries and so Sylvain moved to another table where there was an outlet. I'll remember those ten hours as some of the dullest in my life.
Whenever people see my passport they either say, washing machine, and I nod and smile, or they act like because its battered and old- I literally have two pages of open space left to stamp- it has somehow lost its potency and I will no longer be able to pass check points. These people irritate me, because usually they have the minimally skilled job of looking at your passport and recognizing its you and possibly that it matches the name on your airline ticket. They are in no position to deny me access to my own country or anyone elses and yet they all seem to need to show it to a colleague and speculate on my chances of passing borders.
Finally making it to the states I passed border control with a guy named Ashford who liked my outfit and stamped my passport without additional small talk, welcome back, thanks, Im glad to be here. And I meant it. I was euphoric to be home. Sylvains "visitor" line was shorter but taking longer so I headed down to baggage claim, we didnt have that much time to make our flight- enough, but not excessive. All 4 bags show up one by one, and I grab a cart, pile everything on and begin to wait. Its been a while, and now Im worried, so I ask the guard and he says he'll watch my bags if I want to go check, I head upstairs and another guard tells me I'll have to wait for a third guard to escort me to the far end of the room where the visitor's pass border. He asks me what Sylvain looks like, I say, my height, brown hair, skinny with a grey sweatshirt. He's not anywhere I can see, and then Ashford is there asking whats wrong, I describe the situation and they ask if he's Chilean I say, no French, so there should be no problem. They take me to the two holding cells, there are a lot of listless dark brown faces, but no white ones. I head back downstairs thinking maybe we missed each other in transit. But no, and then I look for my ipod to check the time and I realize Ive left it on the plane. I have already had to go back for my passport today which immediately after deboarding I realized I left in the seat pocket. I humbly accept that I am an idiot and stress because frankly I use that Ipod a lot and I really cant afford to have to replace it. So I ask the nice guard if there is anything I can do, he says yeah go tell that lady from Delta in the suit over there. I say, what color suit, and he says, well its not a suit, just a vest. Sure. She calls the plane and someones checking. Finally after an hour of waiting, I see Sylvain coming down the escalator. We grab our bags and get in the long snaking customs line and the lady says she'll send the Delta guy with my ipod to the recheck your baggage point, but then passing customs Sylvain is detained. He has to pay a fine to the US for buying one too many cartons of cigarettes at the Duty Free, and he gives Sylvain a severe chiding for smoking. We pay his fine, pass go, and at this point its more than unlikely we'll make it to our gate. I grab my Ipod from the guy who retrieved my passport and give him a hug and my appreciation. The line to pass the xrays is short, but its taking forever, and they're hassling a guy from Japan because they want to search his bag but he doesnt understand and keeps touching his bag, while they say over and over "sir, you cannot touch your bag". We head to A13 because we've already missed our flight and thats where the next flight to LGA leaves from. We get on the waitlist grab a starbucks which I spill all over my hand thus burning it, and we have just enough time to pick up two magazines before we board.
In New York, I dont even mind that I have only leggings on and its cold standing in the long taxi stand. For the first time in my life, I feel so excited about the weird way Americans overdo the whole Christmas thing and how literally everyone is saying hello, thank you, your welcome, oh excuse me, merry christmas, happy holidays and the like. Even Im saying it with extra zeal. I realize this excessive love will wear off with time, but for now, I enjoy it. It's great being home, I love the brisk seasonally appropriate air, I love being back home, all is good.
The second we dropped our bags and sat down I went to go "freshen up" but when I went to the bathroom I realized my dop bad was missing, I was upset. The thing about dop bags is not the makeup, toiletries and assortment of pills they carry but the sheer cost of it all. I almost never wear make-up, but I own it, and I had just purchased a barrage of pills which after all, add up. I estimated the cost to be no less than $200. Since Im skint, and a lot of the items would have to be replaced (like my contacts) it was a serious drag. After about an hour sitting there, with each of us taking turns as luggage watchdog and airport walker Sylvain went to see if we could get wifi somewhere, we could just upstairs and so we gathered our luggage, 7 pieces in all, and low and behold, my dop bag is lodged underneath the pile. Whew.
So we collect ourselves and find a couch set up at Gatsby's the restaurant where we spent the next 10 hours. Having withdrawn some money we were able to eat overpriced and underdelicious food. Within 20 minutes we needed to recharge batteries and so Sylvain moved to another table where there was an outlet. I'll remember those ten hours as some of the dullest in my life.
Whenever people see my passport they either say, washing machine, and I nod and smile, or they act like because its battered and old- I literally have two pages of open space left to stamp- it has somehow lost its potency and I will no longer be able to pass check points. These people irritate me, because usually they have the minimally skilled job of looking at your passport and recognizing its you and possibly that it matches the name on your airline ticket. They are in no position to deny me access to my own country or anyone elses and yet they all seem to need to show it to a colleague and speculate on my chances of passing borders.
Finally making it to the states I passed border control with a guy named Ashford who liked my outfit and stamped my passport without additional small talk, welcome back, thanks, Im glad to be here. And I meant it. I was euphoric to be home. Sylvains "visitor" line was shorter but taking longer so I headed down to baggage claim, we didnt have that much time to make our flight- enough, but not excessive. All 4 bags show up one by one, and I grab a cart, pile everything on and begin to wait. Its been a while, and now Im worried, so I ask the guard and he says he'll watch my bags if I want to go check, I head upstairs and another guard tells me I'll have to wait for a third guard to escort me to the far end of the room where the visitor's pass border. He asks me what Sylvain looks like, I say, my height, brown hair, skinny with a grey sweatshirt. He's not anywhere I can see, and then Ashford is there asking whats wrong, I describe the situation and they ask if he's Chilean I say, no French, so there should be no problem. They take me to the two holding cells, there are a lot of listless dark brown faces, but no white ones. I head back downstairs thinking maybe we missed each other in transit. But no, and then I look for my ipod to check the time and I realize Ive left it on the plane. I have already had to go back for my passport today which immediately after deboarding I realized I left in the seat pocket. I humbly accept that I am an idiot and stress because frankly I use that Ipod a lot and I really cant afford to have to replace it. So I ask the nice guard if there is anything I can do, he says yeah go tell that lady from Delta in the suit over there. I say, what color suit, and he says, well its not a suit, just a vest. Sure. She calls the plane and someones checking. Finally after an hour of waiting, I see Sylvain coming down the escalator. We grab our bags and get in the long snaking customs line and the lady says she'll send the Delta guy with my ipod to the recheck your baggage point, but then passing customs Sylvain is detained. He has to pay a fine to the US for buying one too many cartons of cigarettes at the Duty Free, and he gives Sylvain a severe chiding for smoking. We pay his fine, pass go, and at this point its more than unlikely we'll make it to our gate. I grab my Ipod from the guy who retrieved my passport and give him a hug and my appreciation. The line to pass the xrays is short, but its taking forever, and they're hassling a guy from Japan because they want to search his bag but he doesnt understand and keeps touching his bag, while they say over and over "sir, you cannot touch your bag". We head to A13 because we've already missed our flight and thats where the next flight to LGA leaves from. We get on the waitlist grab a starbucks which I spill all over my hand thus burning it, and we have just enough time to pick up two magazines before we board.
In New York, I dont even mind that I have only leggings on and its cold standing in the long taxi stand. For the first time in my life, I feel so excited about the weird way Americans overdo the whole Christmas thing and how literally everyone is saying hello, thank you, your welcome, oh excuse me, merry christmas, happy holidays and the like. Even Im saying it with extra zeal. I realize this excessive love will wear off with time, but for now, I enjoy it. It's great being home, I love the brisk seasonally appropriate air, I love being back home, all is good.
Monday, December 14, 2009
goodbye pucon, goodbye chile
We spent about 3 days in Pucon and frankly it capped our chilean experience off perfectly. We enjoyed the therma hot springs and today we did hydrospeed, which is essentially letting the water carry you down a rapid river on what is more or less a large kickboard. It was, not to sound all American or anything, a blast.
Ive met my fifth person from Wisconsin here, I guy from Mequon- he also lived in Lyon for a semester where Sylvain is from, as always when you travel, you discover, as if you didn´t already know, its a small world.
We´ve run into Laura from Wisconsin, a couple we met at a party in Santiago, and a German girl from Sylvains communications theory class, we went hydrospeeding with a couple guys from Toronto and tried to help one of them with advice for his sham marriage to get a US visa.
Glad to go home, but going home on a great note, feeling good about Chile and excited about the future.
Ive met my fifth person from Wisconsin here, I guy from Mequon- he also lived in Lyon for a semester where Sylvain is from, as always when you travel, you discover, as if you didn´t already know, its a small world.
We´ve run into Laura from Wisconsin, a couple we met at a party in Santiago, and a German girl from Sylvains communications theory class, we went hydrospeeding with a couple guys from Toronto and tried to help one of them with advice for his sham marriage to get a US visa.
Glad to go home, but going home on a great note, feeling good about Chile and excited about the future.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Doesnt it feel good to finish something, a book, a test, hiking mt kilimanjaro? Today was all about tying up loose ends. Sylvain got his test scores and learned he passed all his classes, I sold my books and got 20 bucks for them - in New York I would have gotten half that. On the way home from spinning class where Claudio played 3 songs from the Venga Boys because once I had a fit of laughter when during class We Like To Party came on which I hadnt heard since high school, and I dropped off a bag of stuff (including the 6 knives my mom had sent me when I first arrived) to give to Elisa. Yesterday I donated 3 bags of clothing to the YMCA saying Quiero dar esto meaning I want to give this, the woman receiving said bags asked something and I responded por las mujeres - for the women, she looked in the bag and asked what women? to end most of my transactions when I have no idea what else to say because often with the help of fluent friends I prepare a speech, this time I hadnt expected anyone to ask for what women and therefore I was stumped. In this situation I smile for a long time, and eventually someone says gracias. Even with the donated clothes, the bag of books I sold and the shoes Ive worn out and tossed away, my bags are still full, not as full as when I came, but stuffed nonetheless.
Im doing a last load of laundry while Sylvain retrieves his boxing stuff, our bags are packed and we leave for Pucon in 3 hours for on last Chilean adventure. We've both been hopped up on the excitement of leaving, heading home after a long time away, seeing friends, and the holidays ahead
So here pretty much ends the Chilean chapter. Bring on Paris.
Im doing a last load of laundry while Sylvain retrieves his boxing stuff, our bags are packed and we leave for Pucon in 3 hours for on last Chilean adventure. We've both been hopped up on the excitement of leaving, heading home after a long time away, seeing friends, and the holidays ahead
So here pretty much ends the Chilean chapter. Bring on Paris.
Pavarti's vinyasa yoga
Funny how some things come full circle. When I moved here in september I had been practicing yoga intensely for about 6 months and in the last month or so I had been working out regularly at the gym so I had gotten a lot stronger and my yoga practice felt the benefits. Then I got here and tried a few yoga classes, I spent every other blog writing about the disappointing experience so I wont retrace my steps. About a month ago gringa girl brought me to Hari Kari a vegetarian restaurant that also had yoga classes early in the morning and after 6pm. They were very inexpensive and so I figured I'd give it another shot, something about the place and space sort of resonated with me, it was very indian and that felt comfortable to me.
Of course, I never made it to yoga until last night. The girls and I were back at Hari Kari having lunch last week and we decided to say goodbye yesterday with a yoga class and some drinks afterwards. I picked up gringa girl who lives on the way, she hadnt been to any yoga classes here, and I assured her it was no more than light stretching and eye rolling. When we arrived we found real yoga mats- not just 3 inch foam mattresses, and real blankets. Things were looking up. Pavarti introduced herself, we knew her already, she's the waitress at Hari Kari and since we sup there once a week she was a kind and familiar face. She asked what kind of yoga we practiced and I said vinyasa and hatha- so when class began with the familar melodious chanting I went from low-expectations to spending the yoga practice beating myself up over not coming sooner. I was in a weird heaven hell. Finally I found my yoga class, Pavarti was a sweetheart, the yoga wasnt challenging but the poses and chanting were like salve for the soul, and I was leaving tomorrow. We got our first class free and I felt a surge of emotion, I made gringa girl tell Pavarti that Id spent months looking for a good yoga class here and with her I had finally found it, the day before I left Valpo.
Of course, I never made it to yoga until last night. The girls and I were back at Hari Kari having lunch last week and we decided to say goodbye yesterday with a yoga class and some drinks afterwards. I picked up gringa girl who lives on the way, she hadnt been to any yoga classes here, and I assured her it was no more than light stretching and eye rolling. When we arrived we found real yoga mats- not just 3 inch foam mattresses, and real blankets. Things were looking up. Pavarti introduced herself, we knew her already, she's the waitress at Hari Kari and since we sup there once a week she was a kind and familiar face. She asked what kind of yoga we practiced and I said vinyasa and hatha- so when class began with the familar melodious chanting I went from low-expectations to spending the yoga practice beating myself up over not coming sooner. I was in a weird heaven hell. Finally I found my yoga class, Pavarti was a sweetheart, the yoga wasnt challenging but the poses and chanting were like salve for the soul, and I was leaving tomorrow. We got our first class free and I felt a surge of emotion, I made gringa girl tell Pavarti that Id spent months looking for a good yoga class here and with her I had finally found it, the day before I left Valpo.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
technical difficulties
My Ipod touch is flickering on and off, since this was my last mode de connection except for Sylvains crazy keyboard french laptop Im feeling pretty psyched that tomorrow we kiss Valpo goodbye and head to Pucon for some... more vacation...
Being in Valpo has been a strange experience, I have no regrets about coming, but I sometimes wonder if I should have stayed so long. The last two weeks have been the best two weeks but they have been seriously marred by technical malfunction, fleas, and mediocre weather. I dont have any desire to look back and spend time weighing the Valpo experience, Ive had plenty of time, in fact, nothing but time to think about things. For a long time now the questions worth considering havent had anything to do with being here; instead, what comes next.
For now Im headed back to the states, frankly thrilled to see snow, to feel seasonal, holiday joy and whatnot because I have not been able to muster any here. While Ive been away Ive been pretty dismayed by the state of things back at home. As a teacher were always going on about setting high standards for our students, the same goes for my country. Eight years of Bush was enough to crush anyones spirits, but while I see the opportunities for change coming to fruition; I dont see anyone taking advantage of them, and thats been more disappointing then when the opportunities didnt exist in the first place. Im tired of fighting with republicans about who is right and who is to blame, what I want to go home to is a place where no matter where you stand on abortion, guns, or healthcare, you do whats right.
Im afraid to move to france, Im afraid that it will mean giving up watching football on sundays, giving up my language, and everything thats familiar, giving up my job and the opportunity to work at a school where my experience and voice matters, where I can work hard and make a difference in kids lives whose experiences I understand because I know their parents work two part time jobs and receive no benefits so their healthcare plan is called waiting all night long in the ER because once again their brothers asthma was acting up, their bedroom is the living room couch, and I understand how and why their lives are like this.
I dont know much about any students in France, I dont know the hierarchy I will find in French schools, or what to expect or how to locate myself within it all. My french is better but nothing is worse than not being able to communicate effectively exactly what you need to say. But what I do know is that the French take care of their own. Politicians are politicians wherever you go, but healthcare is a right to all its citizens and no one is free to carry firearms in the parks or to church. Politicians dont dumb themselves down or instigate fear of intellect.
Right now though, I just want to enjoy being back home.
Being in Valpo has been a strange experience, I have no regrets about coming, but I sometimes wonder if I should have stayed so long. The last two weeks have been the best two weeks but they have been seriously marred by technical malfunction, fleas, and mediocre weather. I dont have any desire to look back and spend time weighing the Valpo experience, Ive had plenty of time, in fact, nothing but time to think about things. For a long time now the questions worth considering havent had anything to do with being here; instead, what comes next.
For now Im headed back to the states, frankly thrilled to see snow, to feel seasonal, holiday joy and whatnot because I have not been able to muster any here. While Ive been away Ive been pretty dismayed by the state of things back at home. As a teacher were always going on about setting high standards for our students, the same goes for my country. Eight years of Bush was enough to crush anyones spirits, but while I see the opportunities for change coming to fruition; I dont see anyone taking advantage of them, and thats been more disappointing then when the opportunities didnt exist in the first place. Im tired of fighting with republicans about who is right and who is to blame, what I want to go home to is a place where no matter where you stand on abortion, guns, or healthcare, you do whats right.
Im afraid to move to france, Im afraid that it will mean giving up watching football on sundays, giving up my language, and everything thats familiar, giving up my job and the opportunity to work at a school where my experience and voice matters, where I can work hard and make a difference in kids lives whose experiences I understand because I know their parents work two part time jobs and receive no benefits so their healthcare plan is called waiting all night long in the ER because once again their brothers asthma was acting up, their bedroom is the living room couch, and I understand how and why their lives are like this.
I dont know much about any students in France, I dont know the hierarchy I will find in French schools, or what to expect or how to locate myself within it all. My french is better but nothing is worse than not being able to communicate effectively exactly what you need to say. But what I do know is that the French take care of their own. Politicians are politicians wherever you go, but healthcare is a right to all its citizens and no one is free to carry firearms in the parks or to church. Politicians dont dumb themselves down or instigate fear of intellect.
Right now though, I just want to enjoy being back home.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
going to the movies and cerro la campana
First things first, out of the desperate boredom of a Sunday without a laptop for 8 days I begged Sylvain to tak me to a movie promising he could pick the flic. In the past he has tried to convince me to see the Haunting in Connecticut so giving him free reign was risky, not to mention the choices we had were as follows: 2012, Coco Cannel biopic and Twilight. 2012 was at the bottom of my list but thats indeed was what we saw. I could have happily lived a fullfilling life without having seen it, but going to the movies was almost like being back in New York. With a 15 minute intermission in the middle and a 6 dollar price tag, you could find your differences, but after 3 months of cinema abstinence I enjoyed ever minute, even if the film was rote and predictable peppered with many moments of disbelievability.
Cerro la campana, I woke up at 730 left the house just after 8 got the metro at 835 just missing the 830. Arrived in Limache an hour later got a collectivo, argued with the driver after he suggested I pay 10 dollars for what should have been a 4 dollar ride and ended up paying 6. Started hiking at 10, 2 hours later the novelty pretty much wore off, soldiered onward and upward, and then said to myself, screw it, Ive hiked Mt Kilimanjaro, Ive summited Machu Picchu and so with that I figured Id had a pleasant day of hiking - 4 hours in total - and I turned on my heels and made my way back down. When I got home I found that my knees were in bad shape- I am convinced that jogging down Kili forever ruined my knees in this capacity and my days of hiking up tall things are over if only for the descent and the painful aftermath of knee pain. Still, I popped an Ibuprofrin and things the pain subsided nicely, especially with the new Dexter episode to take my mind of my own troubles and replace them with Dexters. On a day when 3 of my best friends turn 30 it seems to me that age is sneaking into town and ruining all the fun.
Cerro la campana, I woke up at 730 left the house just after 8 got the metro at 835 just missing the 830. Arrived in Limache an hour later got a collectivo, argued with the driver after he suggested I pay 10 dollars for what should have been a 4 dollar ride and ended up paying 6. Started hiking at 10, 2 hours later the novelty pretty much wore off, soldiered onward and upward, and then said to myself, screw it, Ive hiked Mt Kilimanjaro, Ive summited Machu Picchu and so with that I figured Id had a pleasant day of hiking - 4 hours in total - and I turned on my heels and made my way back down. When I got home I found that my knees were in bad shape- I am convinced that jogging down Kili forever ruined my knees in this capacity and my days of hiking up tall things are over if only for the descent and the painful aftermath of knee pain. Still, I popped an Ibuprofrin and things the pain subsided nicely, especially with the new Dexter episode to take my mind of my own troubles and replace them with Dexters. On a day when 3 of my best friends turn 30 it seems to me that age is sneaking into town and ruining all the fun.
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