Also!

An interesting fact:  They use the word cabra or cabro (goat) to refer to children here (in the region, or in Chile, not only in Futa), because they are like mountain goats in that they are always bouncing off the walls.  This seems very interesting to me, because we call children "kids," which, like cabritos, are little goats...

when I have little to report

There once was a teacher named Kate,

She worked from early 'til late.

Her students were crazy,

The co-teacher lazy,

But the experience, like, totally great!

It's been a quiet few days here in Futaleufú.  Over the weekend we received a lot of rain, which brought with it some low temperatures. When it rains, the clouds crawl down the mountains and hover over the city. The peaks are no longer visible, and with the sky hanging so low overhead, the city seems even smaller. All of us were very sleepy all weekend due to the constant drip-drip on our tin roof... except for during the Chile-Perú soccer match, when the males of the household awakened from their stupor and shouted: "golllllllllllll!"

None of the homes have central heating; in Hospedaje Adolfo, we rely upon a single wood stove and the kitchen stove to heat the whole house.  The upside is that it smells welcoming and cozy throughout the whole town, because of all of the fires in the fire-places, but the downside is that we have to keep the bathroom door shut all of the time so as not to "waste" the heat on a less-used room.  This results in a very cold toilet seat, as well as frozen toothpaste, I am told. Thankfully, it's still practically balmy compared to July temperatures.

My first mail arrived yesterday, so now I know that the address actually works.  It continues to be a point of hilarity for me:

Kate

Futaleufú

Chile

I think a letter could be addressed to The Cookie Monster and I would still be able to receive it.

There was a moment of triumph in class today:  The first day of class with 8th grade, my co-teacher, Juan Claudio, warned me that two of the boys didn't know anything and would fail anyway, so I shouldn't "waste my time."  Matías and Camilo are typical 13-year-old boys who lounge in the back of the classroom and don't care to participate, so J.C.'s approach seems a little callous to me.  And today, they not only participated in Simon Says and in classroom introductions, but also finished the writing activity (Camilo being one of the first!).  I have the feeling that maybe they don't want to work with J.C. precisely because of his attitude towards them, as well as his less-than-creative approach to lesson planning.  Besides, I'm still a novelty around here, and that gives me a certain power, of which I plan to take advantage until I solidify my extremely educational, amazingly authoritative, and confidently creative reputation with the students.

El Espolón

     I just got back from El Espolón, which is a small community on the edge of a lake, or rather, in a valley that shoots off from the lake.  It's very remote, and kind of strange, because there are lots of ashes on the ground and lots of dead, white trees standing around, remnants of the colonization efforts in the 20s, when they burnt areas of land to raise sheep.  These kind of eerie ashes and trees are flanked by vegetation, though, which makes me feel like it's the land of the dinosaurs.  Seriously, I thought I was suddenly in Jurassic Park, after all of the fences go down and the dinosaurs get loose and they start driving those fancy cars off of the electric track.  I fully expected a dino (the small, quiet, friendly kind) to peek out from behind a bush at some point.  

      The process of getting to Espolón is an interesting one.  First, we load about fourteen people into a van, then drive about 30 minutes to the boat launch.  From there, there is a great community effort to load the boat.  This can include anything, from stoves to sheep to bales of hay to cans of oil, because this is the only access to the community and the surrounding areas.  Seriously, this place is so remote that they rely on smoke signals for communication.  If you look closely, you can see the smoke in this picture, on that little peninsula.  

We finally take off around 10:30 or 11AM, and there begins the marvelous, breathtaking, surreal but tranquil trip!

The water's strange shade of milky green is due to the ashes -- it used to be clear and mirror-like (Gustavo is the son of the woman who runs my pensión; the photo is from a trip he took a year ago):

But now it's kind of unhealthy looking:

The ashes also apparently killed off a lot of sheep and other animals, because it contaminated their water and food, and a lot of people had to leave the area because they lost their livelihood. 

A strange stop on our way back this afternoon:

That is a plastic bag hanging from a dead tree.  Inside the plastic bag are rolls of bread.  Next to that spire of the stump is another bag of food.  We (the boat) left both of those bags hanging there, with no one around to receive them.  My theory is that a hermit or wild child or Nell lives in those woods behind this stop, with only the one little dog for company.

Last week, I wrote down an episode from the journey as soon as I got home, so as not to forget:

"Before I forget!  On the way back from Espolón, I was in the back of a pickup truck, bouncing around with some other people.  We arrived at the boat launch, boarded, got settled, then took off.  I spent much of the trip reading or making faces at the little kids around me or talking to a mother named Maria (who wanted me to translate some of The Language Instinct for her, which was extreeeemely difficult).  Finally, we piled into the red van that acts as a shuttle between Futa and the boat launch.  Just before arriving at the Futa end of Lake Espolón, we had picked up a man with two bags of pigs -- I didn't see that they were in sacks until we deboarded the boat and heard the squeals.  I located them when I saw their little snouts pressed against the grain of the sacks.  He got into the van with us, tossing the noisy little piglets into the back of the van.  About 15 minutes into the trip, Maria complains to the driver about the smell.  He sends his son to the roof of the van, and the pig owner tosses the poor, terrified little creatures onto the roof, still in their sack, and the kid ties the sacks up there, to a tire.  Finally, we arrive in Futa, where the kid gets back up top and just drops them down!  More squeals."

It was hilarious that day, but today they did it with a pet dog that just didn't fit in the van with all of the people, and I have to say that was much more heart-wrenching.  Poor thing.

It's getting chilly here, especially in the mornings.  The trees are just barely beginning to change.

some of the loveliness that surrounds me

Photos of Futaleufú!  That's my house, of course -- just kidding!  The girls standing in front of the famous Futaleufú River are Valeria, Nancy, and Biz, from right to left.  Valeria and Nancy work with the Fundación, while Biz is my fellow teacher, stationed a mere 2 hours away in Palena.  More later!

for Friends and Family from Futaleufú

Alliteration seems like a great way to start this off, since this is, in fact, my blog.  Indeed, perhaps an inaugural poem would be good.

Phones, postcards, mail and email,

I am an uncommunicative female.

So to better stay in touch,

Since I miss you all so much,

I thought I would at last succumb

And type and type, 'til my fingers are numb,

For though blogging is now somewhat faddish,

It will grant my greatest and fondest wish,

And allow me to share with all my peeps

My time in Futaleufú, with goats and sheeps.

(While that is not grammatically correct,

A better rhyme I could not erect.)

Food is good, with lots of bread; 

There're dozens of rolls at every spread.

Avocados and tomatoes are common, too,

But not much else here in Futaleufú.

Still, an improvement over Ecuador,

No "lung and tripas and liver, galore."

The kids are great, though very talkative.

My housemates are nice, in the place where I live.

There's hot water, and sunny skies for now,

And iffy internet, so I'll take a bow,

And say goodnight, while the going is good.

I'd like to hear from all, I would!