No Lung Yet

2009-10-11T21:31:00.000-07:00

Today was Verónica's birthday -- she's the Kinder teacher. There is a little boy in Kinder named Diego who is hyperactive and loud and doesn't like any activity that anyone initiates... anyway, she recounted today that she was talking to Diego's mother and grandmother about his problems in class, and the grandmother said, "Just show him a wet towel -- that's what he gets when he misbehaves with me. Just show him a wet towel and he'll behave." Wow. Eva commented that the parents and guardians really give "precious" advice here.

bailando la cueca

2009-10-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

"La cueca" is THE traditional Chilean dance -- it mimics the rooster and the hen, is made up of lots of delicate steps and careful, dainty waving of kerchiefs. The couple circles around each other for most of it, coming in close and then backing away. During the celebrations for September 18th, their July 4th, many students danced.

And teachers...

And students WITH teachers. Those are the traditional sheepskin pants and beret.

Bryan Gomez

2009-10-07T17:41:00.000-07:00

Bryan Gomez, from third grade, was so into a game we were playing in class today that when it came time for him to hit the chalkboard, he hit it so hard that he bounced back and fell to the floor!

After class each Wednesday, Bryan fits himself into this bookshelf. He seriously heads straight for the back of the room after the bell rings and hoists himself up.

This kid is on my English Olympics team -- therefore, the next month should be verrrry entertaining!

It's been a crazy week...

2009-09-04T19:15:00.000-07:00

... but now that the internal English competition is over I can finally take a breath!

I got home from the competition, got a call from Jeannette, a friend of Eva's family and now a friend of mine, that the meat was ready to be picked up and that we had to do it NOW, and so Juan Pablo and I hopped in the car, drove the 6 blocks through the light rain, and picked up a plastic bag full of bloody meat from the butcher. That butcher explained that he didn't have any "posta" and therefore added a couple of "chuletas" to the bag, and also that it was a "vaquita," freshly killed so nice and soft, as if in reassurance. Nice. We dropped it off at Jeannette's house, because it's for Eva's surprise birthday party tomorrow and we couldn't bring it home, and when we went in little Belén, who is in my kinder class, greeted us and then started stroking my arm like a cat. It was strange.

Last week I was in Valdivia, Eva's hometown and where her four children (adults now) live. I stayed there for the week whilst Eva was in Santiago for a course, and got to see some of the city. They call it Val"lluvia," because it's so rainy. It's like the Seattle of Chile.

I'm learning a lot of little puns and poems and riddles and tongue-twisters. I love it.

"Papalapapidicoipi," or "Esmedílemelo," which is what one would hypothetically say to ask someone in a formal way to sharpen something with a whetstone. But they wouldn't say it in reality, because it's too hard. Try this on for size (but not if you've read my Facebook status): "Oro no es, plata no es..." Qué es?

What a funny, gossipy town!

2009-08-15T13:32:00.000-07:00

Yohanna has her period. She was not feeling well at lunchtime so stayed home to rest, and Juan Pablo and Jonathan asked after her, and Eva said, "it's that time of the month." Then Trinidad the Elder comes over to ask Eva for the key to the school, and asks after Yoa, and Eva explains that "the monthly bill arrived." "Ooooh," says Trini. Then Waleska stops by with Trini the Younger, and is worried when Juan Pablo says that Yoa is sick, and Jonathan mouths to her, "she has her period." Waleska suggests drinking boiled water with oregano, and Jonathan counters with a suggestion of chamomile tea. Everyone looks at him. "I have seven sisters," he explains. "I know these things."

I imagine that this scintillating bit of news about Yohanna's current well-being will reach the other side of town by 6 PM. :)

And now YOU know!!!

El Límite

2009-08-14T14:54:00.000-07:00

"Siéntate bien, Matías."

"Pero tía, soy muy enano."

"Sit correctly, Matías."

"But teacher, I'm very dwarfish."

HA!

small story about small people

2009-08-11T19:27:00.001-07:00

I had class today with PreKinder, always an exhausting experience. My classroom management tool is a poster with an envelope for each student, and three colors of paper inside each envelope: green, yellow, and red. All begin with a green card, and with infractions that can range from making incessant buzzing noises (Pepe) to cutting another student's apron (Jardy) to pulling a chair out from under their neighbor (Matías), they progress from yellow to red. Children with red cards have to leave the room for two minutes. Children with green cards at the end of class (aka, no problems) get a star and sometimes a sticker (5 stars make a special prize). Sooo... today, this funny little kid named Franco, who is extra short and round-headed even for a four-year-old, got a yellow card for the first time. He was unusually loud-mouthed, you see. At the end of class, I refused to give him a sticker, despite the emissaries he sent (fellow students Sergio and Matías) and repeated requests for his "prize," explaining each time that the stickers were rewards for good behavior and that he could earn one next week. After my last denial, as I was hanging the kids' artwork on the wall, he replied, "I'm going to go to the countryside and not come back to school. And I'm going to tell my dad. And my brother, who has a gun." Yikes.

I'm baaaaaaaack!

2009-08-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Futaleufú last night after dark, expecting and dreading a cold, empty house where I had to figure out how to hook up the gas and start a fire. Faced with my supreme incompetence, my complete and utter inability to do anything, I stewed in shame and self-contempt and nerves for the two-hour bus ride from Esquel to Futa. But lo and behold, when I arrived the house was lit up from within like a happy jack-o-lantern and Eva, Juan Pablo, and Yohanna swarmed out to greet me and help me with my things. O happy night! We sat down to a delightful repast of chicken and, you guessed it, potatoes, and talked long into the night, or at least until I almost fainted from exhaustion at 9:30. I plan to learn how to hook up the gas today.

Photos from July and details of my wonderful vacation will come, in stages, over this fine weekend. Chao!

Quick but interesting

2009-07-18T14:24:00.000-07:00

Here's a photo essay that Fox (gasp!) News did on the volcanic eruption in Chaiten. I was doing research on how to get from Prague to Dresden, from Dresden to Berlin, from Buenos Aires to Esquel, and from Esquel to Futaleufú, when a Google search turned up this: http://www.foxnews.com/photoessay/0,4644,3905,00.html.

It is fascinating to see so much of this itty-bitty town and the people I live with and teach revealed through such a major media source. It's like finding your fifth-grade science report published 15 years later in Scientific American, or a photo of your first cat in National Geographic.* The strange thing is, I wouldn't experience this odd reaction to pictures of Des Moines. I suppose that Futa is so very isolated in my mind from the rest of the world, and the people and things within it are connected with memories, inside jokes, my feelings of frustration and humor, that it is rather jolting to see the town made public to so wide an audience.** There is also the fact that my friends and family don't know it. They know Des Moines, the lucky devils! But not Futa. That's mine.

Photo #15: the little girl on the right is one of my third-grade students, Gabriela.

Photo #21: there are two vans here. The red one is Adelio's sad, broken-down vehicle. :)

* Many people would be appalled at my comparing Fox News with Scientific American or National Geographic. I understand their shock and confusion, and apologize, but the comparison suits my purposes.

** That audience now consists of the few of us that would Google Futaleufú.*** However, I'm sure the explosion was big news at the time to some!

*** Does "Google" used as a verb maintain its capitalization?

Hello Teacher!

2009-06-29T19:24:00.000-07:00

Note their trepidation.

I owes you a post...

2009-06-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd begin with a description of another of my housemates, since I've already given you a portrait of Yohanna.

Jonathan Rojas (28) is another teacher living in Hospedaje Adolfo. He teaches chemistry and biology to grades 7 through 11 (we don't have a 12th grade), and has more hours than any other teacher. He is the son of a highfalutin' Pentacostal pastor who leads a megachurch in La Serena, on the coast to the north of Santiago. He has nine brothers and sisters, and loves talking about how big his houses were and are, and the nice things his parents have and how he's a momma's-boy. Jonathan is very nice and generous, and can be very funny:

Una vez un circo llegó a un pueblo y los letreros anunciaron una attración especial: el pan hablando. Cuando abrió el circo, el público estuvo lleno. Aparecieron hombres que comían fuego, pero el público no se entusiasmó. Aparecieron mujeres paradas en caballos, pero el público no se entusiasmó. Aparecieron payasos con piés grandes y narices rojas, pero el público no se entusiasmó. Gritaron, "el pan hablando, el pan hablando, el pan hablando!" Por fin, salió un hombre con un pan normal y una jarra de agua, y puso el pan en una mesa. Echó el agua de la jarra encima del pan, y dijo, "Les presento el PAN ABLANDO!"

(el pan hablando means The Talking Bread, while el pan ablando means The Softening Bread. I love puns!)

Jonathan also sings constantly. He wanted to be a cantante lírico for most of his life -- how he ended up a biology teacher, I'm not sure. As a result, we are often "treated" with surprise arias at the onces table, early in the morning, and while preparing for class.

The creepster

The aforementioned creepster was on the boat again this week in Espolón. I sat down with my headphones in and my book, next to the women, and yet he came and sat down next to me. Adelio, the man who drives both the van to the boat-launch and the boat itself, came down from above and rescued me, inviting me up to the "cabin" where I could sit and chat with him and this old man. The old man was very interesting, telling me about his sister who has lived in the US since the '60s, and who is spending her retirement traveling with her husband to places all over the world. "She's been to Italy, France, everywhere! They just got back from a cruise to the... I think Jamaica? And I've never been to the upper end of Lago Espolón!" It was really amazing to hear that, about how different two siblings' lives can be, just because one left their home. Adelio was planning to visit people in the area to see how much of a water drop they have near their house. You see, they use these turbine engines to create generators for the houses in rural areas -- if there's a stream that is on enough of an incline or if there's enough water running fast enough, they can install the makeshift generator and give the people light at night. Otherwise, they're living by candlelight, and nights are very long here in the winter. The creepster ventured upstairs later on, but with little encouragement to stay, returned below.

Adelio's van: it is red, with a side sliding door that falls off every time you open it. The windows don't close all the way, there is no back windshield, instead replaced with cardboard. About every other week, we stop along our route so they can lift up the driver's seat and throw more water in. The men have to push to get the van started -- one week they tied a rope to the van and a pick-up truck pulled us a bit until we got started, AFTER they maneuvered the van around so it was facing the right way. We also always cram about 10 people in the back every time, with animals above if there are any.

It finally Happened.

2009-06-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

My toothpaste froze.

Photos: English Olympics, Charlie, and My Room.

2009-06-17T20:33:00.001-07:00

The setting.

The players.

And the fun:

Tongue-twisters. "Sally sold sea shells by the sea shore. Kris Kringle crunches candy canes. Double bubble gum bubbles double."

Charades (mouth).

It was a long game, but so were the kids. ;)

Charlie! With Trinidad, who alternates between being an amusing little girl in a brash kind of way, and the spawn of Satan. She has punched me in the throat, stabbed me in the head with a pencil, and got mad when I wouldn't let her draw in Eva's books. Seriously. It's a good thing she's only four.

And last, my bedroom!

A Poem for Your Eyes, To Apologize

2009-06-15T17:39:00.001-07:00

Attempts have been made and failed,

I tried to keep up but then bailed.

So here's an attempt to start anew,

And share some things, just a few.

My housemates are good for conversation,

Making up English by adding (dash)ation.

Holation, they'd say, in greeting to you,

These silly young people in Futaleufú.

We have a new puppy, whose name is Charlie,

And he's stinky and bites but still is gnarly.

Solo's the other dog, the sad one outside,

Whose hair comes away on your hand, the poor guy.

We hosted an English Olympics on the fifth,

We were one of two teams, just like a Sith,

(You see, Siths always come in twos,

And because one must be stronger, one has to lose.)

Therefore we were gracious, and lost by one point.

After a tie-breaker activity, we did anoint

Team Palena, lucky ducks, those wonderful kids,

Who clearly rely on their egos, not ids.

My kids were bummed but quickly rallied,

And will work really hard (this time they dallied).

My birthday was Tuesday, which was really great,

In the lounge teachers wrote, "Feliz cumple Kate."

And we had coffee and cake at ten o'clock AM,

PreKinder and 7th sang, which was mayhem.

Then at night we celebrated yet more,

Chatting and laughter -- so not a bore.

"Kate -- Happiness -- love Mom" my cake read,

A sweet mistranslation that all of us fed.

Saturday there was another party for various things,

With lots of meat and potatoes and brindarings.

We played truco, a traditional card game,

And I lost spectacularly, more of the same.

All in all, it's been a great week,

Sorry for not sharing often; my dedication is weak.

Photos are coming soon, really they are,

Hopefully this will prevent the feathers and tar!

Funny sayings and conversations about language:

2009-06-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

- Thank you!

- Bienvenido!

- It seems like most of the words that are amalgams of other words are masculine. Like, trabalenguas, parabrisas, paraguas...

- Parafina? Paraguay?

Dulce es la venganza, dijo el Señor. - Eva

Still on strike...

2009-06-02T09:19:00.000-07:00

Turkeys!

I like the fat one one the far right, with the belly and the feet that are just dangling.

So it's been very quiet. On Sunday I went on a hike with Nancy, Valeria, and Nathaniel, a fellow gringo who splits his time between Futa and Esquel. We climbed the Cerro la Bandera, and had a snowball fight on the way down. Then we got pizza with Jonathan, one of my housemates, and talked GRE vocabulary. (Cleave is its own antonym.)

View from about 2/3 of the way up. Big scenes like this always remind me of the end of The Land Before Time (the first) when the Littlefoot and Sarah and Spike and Ducky and Petri all come out into the Big Valley...

Here we're almost at the top. I wanted to share this especially because you may be able to see that there is moss on the right side of that tree stump, and the sun is setting behind us, which means that here the moss grows on the south side of the tree. I just assume that this is so because we're in the Southern hemisphere.

Nancy, in the mud.

Nathaniel and Nancy, checking out their complexions in the perfectly still water.

This is that weird spiky plant that grows all over El Espolón. Doesn't it seem like a throwback to the Jurassic Era?

I like this photo because it seems suitably dramatic.

Nancy and Valeria.

Snowball fight! Valeria was at the rear of our party, and she would let loose with some huge blocks of snow -- the size of those turkeys at the beginning. Then there was Nancy:

She was just in front of me, and would hide behind bushes and attempt to ambush Valeria. This was an unfortunately and unsurprisingly unsuccessful strategy, because she was wearing purple and was therefore spotted every time. I sure she has learned from her mistakes and will do much better in the future.

Wow! This week went by really fast!

2009-05-28T18:15:00.000-07:00

The teachers in Chile are on strike, so there wasn't any class in the school for the last week. However, the rural schools are still in session, partly because the information is not spread widely enough and there's no one to organize the strike for them, and partly because it's so hard for the students to get to the school that it would be almost cruel to send them away for an undetermined period of time, and then have to call them back, suddenly.

So, I went to El Espolón again, despite the strike -- and the cold! I wore long underwear, sweats, jeans over the sweats, and six shirts/sweaters/vest. And still those tendrils of cool air, those insidious fingers of winter, found their way past the barriers and reached deep into my bones. But I survived.

And I took pictures. Here are the children, playing with marbles:

The girls! Trinidad, Macarena, Karina, and Jesica.

So incredibly sweet! Roxana, Amadeo, Macarena, Cristián, Karina, Trinidad, and Jesica.

Copying new vocabulary for some activities!

Two of the boys! Amadeo catches on really quickly, and is an amazing artist. Cristián is just about the most adorable kid I've ever worked with.

Vilma, the Inspectora of the school. She's slightly crazy. I think they go so long without visitors that she gets really excited when meeting someone new. Vilma has a habit of talking really fast and even on the intakes of breath. "MellamoVilmaybienvenidosalaescuela." Her husband, Lorenzo, is the teacher. They've been working at El Espolón for over 20 years, living there during the week and going home on the weekends.

Vilma was wearing a red string around her right wrist, and silver and copper rings on her right thumb. She explained that the adornments were to help her thumb, because she couldn't bend it for a day. I thought that was interesting.

It probably snowed today in Espolón. Here are some pictures of the boat launch with the portentous clouds. Amongst all the neblina and the white clouds hanging overhead were these neon-blue intruders. They may look like the shadows of the mountains but it's really just heavy clouds, waiting to drop their snow on the lake and its people.

More!

2009-05-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

The Catholic chapel, where they have mass. Sometimes.

This is 100% of my students from El Lonconao. It's a rural school with one classroom, a horse in the schoolyard, a chalkboard (wow!), and a really wacky teacher. I go once a week, for an hour-and-a-half on Friday mornings, and these two little goats, Francisco and Bernardo, are going to be the best in their class when it comes to English, with all the personalized attention they're getting!

The Monkey-Puzzle Tree!

(Thanks, Boulderites!) This is the national tree of Chile, according to Kelton and Wiki. Según Eva, it has a long and slender fruit that is used in some delicious treats. There are several of them in Futaleufú, but they are hard to keep around because they dry out and die. Here's one of the trees in the plaza:

Ouch!

Fotos of Futa in the Fall

2009-05-24T14:07:00.000-07:00

I've seen stranded cats and jumping dogs, all over town.

I've seen the leaves change, from green to brown.

Monkey puzzle trees, house-fires,

Chubby chickens and flat tires,

Bloody sidewalks and bottles of beer,

Even the first snowfall of the year.

Yet I haven't uploaded a single view

Of how the town's changed, for all of you.

So here are some photos, only a few,

Of fall and the winter in Futaleufú!

These trees are called álamos; there is a street in Santiago named the Alameda because of the trees that line it. I'm not sure about our own Alamo -- according to the ever-dependable Wiki, the Mexican Army named it, so it's possible that it refers to the same trees...

The line of red trees occurs in the fall and lasts through the spring. They are called lenga, and the ones that stay green are called coigüe. The lenga don't lose their leaves -- they just change color, due in part to the high altitude, as well as the cold, of course. The coigüe are victims of the logging industry down south here, though I shouldn't criticize too much because it's what keeps us warm. I found that these color changes were the most impressively pretty part of the autumn here, especially on sunny blue days and with snow.

I've been taken to task for not writing often enough on this blog, soooooo....

2009-05-24T10:27:00.001-07:00

.... my new goal is to write something every other day, be it ever-so-boring or ever-so-short!

I'll start with the people I live with. That could provide enough fodder for the entire year, but I'll keep it short and neat! ;)

Yohanna: the art teacher at the school. Yohanna is the typical artist, with a female mullet, a need for solitude, and a feeling of superiority over the other, unenlightened teachers. She's extremely generous and has a lively sense of humor. For example, we were talking about the H1N1 flu and about mutations of viruses and mutations of cells like in cancer and other mutations at the microbiological level, and she pipes in with, "Yes, like Michael Jackson." Yohanna speaks intermediate English, and likes to practice with me, which inevitably leads to a lot of misunderstandings and inside jokes. "I like pie. That's my truth." She is one of nine children, grew up on the outskirts of the city of Concepción, and believes that the eggs here in the South are far inferior to those that they had at home. Yohanna has a collection of strange art films, performance art or dance theater or something like that, which she likes to share with me. I don't have the heart to tell her that I would rather watch Shrek for the 82nd time.

onces again, and little kiddies

2009-05-18T17:11:00.000-07:00

I heard another version of the onces story, where it's the miners' submissive wives that create the code so that their husbands don't know that they are drinking.

They like me, they really like me! Last Friday I had class with 4th grade for the first time (schedule changes, never ends), and when I walked into the classroom I got a standing ovation, complete with shrieking that only 8- and 9-year-old girls can achieve. It was deafening, and definitely hard-warming. :) And again, a week ago I had class on a Saturday because we get next Friday off and they had to make up for it. I was walking around the school after my last class and saw the preschool class lined up after their computation lesson. The girl I mentioned before, Alondra, spots me and yells, "Tía!" and runs over to give me a hug. Immediately, the others turn around to see what she's doing, and soon I'm being hugged by so many children that they cut off my air, knock me over, and I end up at the bottom of a wriggling pile of miniature people. I had a headache for hours afterwards, but it was possibly the sweetest thing and the only thing that made up for having to work on a Saturday.

P.S. the littler kids, until about 6th grade, refer to their teachers as tía or tío (aunt or uncle). After that, they are Profe, or in English class, Teacher, or Miss.

Something I learned today

2009-05-10T19:20:00.000-07:00

They eat a LOT of bread in Chile. Apparently, this country has the 2nd highest consumption of bread in the world, at least according to my housemates. Breakfast consists of bread and cheese and jam, lunch is the big meal with soup or meat and potatoes (and bread), and then there's teatime, which once again consists of bread and cheese and jam. Today I asked Juan Pablo (music teacher, housemate) why their teatime/supper is called onces. According to him, there were a lot of miners working in Chile, and when they would go to supper they would often drink, sometimes quite a bit. The bosses didn't like this, for various reasons, and so the miners began to keep it secret, saying they were going to take onces because A-G-U-A-R-D-I-E-N-T-E, or liquor, has eleven letters in it. It was a code to keep their drinking activities under wraps, and the Chileans still call their evening meal onces as a result, despite the strongest drink available being coffee.

2009-04-23T17:05:00.000-07:00

A creepy (possibly drunk) guy on the boat this morning told me he wanted to go to the United States with me, that he wanted to give me a parcel of land in the Chilean countryside for a summer home, and that he thought I was thirty and even though I am not, he would wait for me.

I'm not sure whether to be creeped out (which I certainly am), flattered (not really -- too creeped out), or offended by the fact that he thought I was thirty.

I told him I wouldn't accept the land. He asked why, so I said I didn't want to have to pay taxes on it. I think it's my wrinkle that confuses people as to my age.

2009-04-22T07:50:00.000-07:00

Class with PreKínder can be overwhelming (twenty-one children doing cartwheels, wrestling, cutting things up, or paying strict attention), but it can also be very fun.

I showed drawings of animals and they learned the names.

Me: Chicken.

Jaime: Chicken.

Matías: Chicken.

Ivana: Chicken.

Alondra: Chicken!

etc.

Me: Dog.

Jaime: Dog.

Matías: Dog.

Ivana: Dog.

Alondra: Chicken!

then later,

Me: What's your name?

Jaime: Jaime.

Matías: Matías.

Ivana: Ivana.

Alondra: Chicken!

Easter weekend fun

2009-04-11T15:30:00.001-07:00

Biz, the teacher in Palena, came to visit this weekend. The plan was to escape to Esquel, but somebody forgot her passport and thus could not enter into Argentina. :) This is actually completely understandable, because we are so close to the border and so very isolated from the rest of Chile, so one tends to forget pesky matters like border control. Therefore, we had a fun-filled weekend in Futaleufú instead!

Over this long weekend, we took advantage of the unseasonably warm and absolutely beautiful weather, and went for a couple of walks.

This is the first stage of an amazingly endless set of stairs that lead to the top of a cerro on the edge of town. When one reaches the top of this stage, another set of stairs opens up, and again, and again, and again. Yoanna (the art teacher) called it the Stairway to Heaven.

Biz and I made it.

There is a great view of Futaleufú and the Laguna Espejo (mirror) from atop this hill. The laguna is aptly named:

On the way back from our little walk, we ran into two of my students, from 1st and 2nd grade. They gave me a very special gift:

We named her Aya, due to the Chilean habit of saying "AI-yah" when they are understanding something. Of course, I had to decline this most generous of gifts, because Eva (incomprehensibly) doesn't like cats. As an agreeable alternative, the student who gave me the kitten offered to "lend" it to me until I leave in December. Again, I regretfully declined.

even when it rains it's gorgeous!

2009-04-03T17:47:00.000-07:00

And that's definitely a good thing, because it rains a lot here in the autumn. Yesterday, after the trip to El Espolón and my uncomfortable bus ride back from the boat launch, I was walking back to the pensión and saw this:

This is the first rainbow I've seen in a very long time! I think it's providential. It's a sign! Nature is saying to me, "Kate, I am showering Futaleufú with my watery benevolence, creating vast puddles on every street corner so as to test your ingenuity when you wish to walk anywhere without getting ankle-deep in muddy water, sending forth gusts of wind that oh-so-melodiously shake the windows of the house and cause the petals to capriciously leap off those lovely orange flowers out front, lowering the figurative thermostat and thus allowing the snow on those majestic peaks to creep ever-closer to the softly smoking town below... These things I do for you. For more than forty days and forty nights, this deluge of generosity, this flood of well-wishing, I will send to you. Here is a symbol of this promise. We call it Rainbow."

Now, I know that a rainbow is supposed to signal the end of rain, but I saw this yesterday and it rained all day today. Besides, everything's all turned around in the southern hemisphere: why not symbolism? A rainbow is arco iris in Spanish, which I like because it carries with it a literary connotation, a shadow of Greek mythology, a shade of something more than just a bow that is formed by light refracting through raindrops.

Actually, I think the rain does some very interesting things to the landscape, and is soothing (again, the drip-drips on the tin roof), so I don't mind it. The surroundings become beautifully dramatic -- I imagine that if Emily Brontë were Chilean, she would have written about the Heights of Futaleufú during autumn. It's suitably gloomy and sweeping and emotive.

Here are those crawly clouds, as well as another arco iris that I saw this morning:

And finally.... the House!

This is Hospedaje Adolfo, or Eva's pensión, or a menagerie of educators. The upper-left window is mine, which means I have a Room with a View:

Unfortunately, I think I also have Bedbugs.

I was supposed to go out to more rural schools today, El Lonconao and El Límite, but classes there were cancelled for the third week in a row, due to "meetings." Next week is semana santa, so there's no school that Friday, either. I have yet to meet my students at El Lonconao.

These meetings are indicative of a big problem here in Chile: bureaucracy. There's a special order for every kind of day-to-day interaction -- when I buy supplies for my classes, even if I'm just buying a single piece of cardboard and the only person in the store, the assistant has to write up a ticket for the price, which I then carry over to the shop owner, who takes my money and gives me a receipt, and I carry that receipt back to the assistant, who hands me my cardboard. And this is in Futa. It was worse in Santiago.

When it comes to the meetings in the schools, I'm under the impression that they want to do all they can to improve the education of the children in the area (good), but that they spend so long talking about it and suspend so many classes that they don't accomplish much, or erode that which they have accomplished (bad). People care, and there are individuals that are efficient and hard-working (like Eva), but there is also just such a huge emphasis on following procedures and exhausting every possibility and politely inquiring after everybody's third cousin's wife's black-sheep-of-a-brother that any efficient action by those individuals is stymied. But again, I emphasize, they care.

Class was über-fun on Thursday in El Espolón. We are working on the body, and they learned the Hokey-Pokey. All of the cabros there are extremely sweet and earnest and love to participate. There's this little boy named Cristián (about 8, I think), who gets excited during songs, games, quiet time for drawing, really all the time, and he lets loose this bubbly, high-pitched laughter, which makes me laugh, which makes the other students laugh... Part of the charm of those kids is the way that they all get along and help each other, despite coming from different parts and being of all different ages. The school there is only one room, for students up through 8th grade, after which they go to high school in Futa or a larger city where they have family. The children come from remote areas like the ones in my earlier post, the ones with the smoke signals, and live at the school during the week. They go home over the weekend. Anyway, Cristián is buddies with the older students, and they all have running jokes and these great relationships and he and Macarena, a sweet, quiet little girl, don't stick out at all even though they are the youngest. I can't do it justice -- it must be observed!

Also!

2009-03-31T20:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-31T18:13:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-26T15:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-25T19:57:00.001-07:00

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

2009-03-24T18:29:00.000-07:00

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!