Chilean Spanish

After spending the last couple of months in Chile, I thought it appropriate to highlight the uniqueness of the language. It’s not just Spanish, but it’s a certain type that’s so different from the Spanish spoken elsewhere in Latin America and Spain. It even has its own name among Chileans: “el chileno." “Entiendes el chileno?” [Do you understand Chilean Spanish?] one of the workers at the rehabilitation center asked me one day, to which I responded honestly with the best Chilean accent I could muster, “Sí, ma’ o meno’”. (Yes, more or less). It’s very different from any other type of Spanish because of the unique accent, the speed at which it’s spoken, and all the slang.

There are a lot of “modismos” [idioms] aka “slang words" if you will. A ton. That’s what makes the language so hard to learn and become accustomed to.

Here are some examples. The words to the left are “chilenismos”, and the ones in the middle are standard Spanish.

· Hartos/hartas - muchos/muchas [a lot]

· Pololo/polola - novio/novia [boyfriend/girlfriend]

· Guata - panza [belly]

· Guagua - bebé [baby]

See how it’s so different? And these words (to the left) are unique to Chile. There are tons more, but I don't want to bore you.

I have one story that speaks to the speed of Chilean Spanish and how difficult it is for foreigners to understand. The other two interns and I took a taxi to the airport for our flight back to Punta Arenas from Santiago in late July. At the beginning of the drive, the driver talks to us and tries to make conversation, but he was speaking extremely fast, faster than any other Chilean I’d met in all of my time there. At one point he says, “Qué tal? Divirtieron?” [How was it? Did you have a good time?], and I had no idea what he said until literally 5 minutes later when I processed the words. It just sounded like, “Quetaldivirtieron”... Not even in the form of a question. I laughed nervously and told him, “Mmm...no entiendo, perdón” [I don’t understand, sorry]. He stopped talking altogether after that haha

I made it a goal for the remainder of my 3 weeks here to practice my comprehension of Chilean Spanish as much as possible. Including watching Germán (Er-man), a guy from Chile whose videos on YouTube went viral and turned into both a national and international sensation. He now ends up making half a million dollars a year from them :)

If this isn't good practice, I don't know what is.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?annotation_id=annotation_586767761&feature=iv&src_vid=CG50cPXuwZ0&v=pCJqZLaiySU

Final adventures

Torres del Paine

Trekking with our homestay family. I am in the middle

with the brown jacket.

These past couple of weeks, we went hiking, trekking, and snowboarding in Patagonia Chile!

Last Saturday we went to Torres del Paine, one of the largest and most visited parks in Chile that contains mountains, glaciers, lakes, and rivers. This was an all day trip that involved a little hiking, but mostly site seeing in a tour bus with about 7 other Chileans.





Two Saturdays ago we went trekking with our host family. By the end of it, our host parents were worn down and tired from the walk, but this walk was NOTHING compared to the hike I did with Tessa and her friend at La Campana (one of the top 5 national parks in Chile).

“Esto es nada en comparación a La Campana,” (This is nothing compared to La Campana), I told them as we were walking to the parking lot. “Todo el camino es subir!” (The entire walk is uphill!) I said, making an upward movement with my hand.

My host mom gasps, “Qué terrrible!” and my host dad goes, “Whoaa!”

~*~

Snowboarding at a resort with Tessa in

Punta Arenas

The biggest challenge for me was snowboarding. The thought of going snowboarding in Patagonia Chile sounded awesome, but I had absolutely no idea that it would be so difficult. I must’ve fallen a million times. I’d never gone snowboarding before in my life, so it was a little foolish to rent out all of the necessary material (snowboard & shoes) without knowing how to do it. Again, no idea it would be that hard, and I thought that with Tessa (who is a snowboarding instructor back in Seattle) and our host sister’s boyfriend who’s pretty much a pro, that everything would be alright. Well, it was, but I didn’t want them to spend all their time with me and rob them of the chance to go out on their own and have fun. I tried to learn for a little bit on my own but eventually gave up. I knew that if I kept going I would seriously hurt myself, so I just collapsed in the snow with the chilling wind whipping past me.

My North Face was struggling to fight the cold, but it was still doing a pretty good job of keeping my torso relatively warm. My extremities went completely numb. I was afraid I’d get frostbite, but I still lay on the ground, unsure of what my next move should be. I had no idea which way to go to get back to the cabins at the resort down below, and Tessa and Rodrigo left me a long time ago. I heard a distant voice calling out, “Disculpa, estás bien?!” [Excuse me, are you alright?] I lifted up my head, turned, and saw in the distance two women and several kids staring at me. This looked like a snowboarding class. I was too cold to be embarrassed. They must’ve been calling me for the longest time, but I couldn’t hear anything because of the wind. “Estás bien?” One of the women yells at me again. “Sí, estoy bien, gracias!” [Yeah, I’m good, thanks!] I shout, and fall back to the ground again, laughing to myself. They probably thought I was dead.

I eventually get up, take my shoes out of the snowboard, and walk any which way down the mountain to try and find the cabins. Success in 10 minutes. On the way down I struggled internally with whether or not I should’ve continued with learning on my own. I decided against it.

~*~

I also spent some time rock climbing at a gym where my host sister works. This activity is much more fun and challenging than I'd anticipated

Rock climbing at Imago Mundí in Punta Arenas.

This requires a ton of upper body strength.

I'm glad I was able to engage in activities that I don’t usually do or get the chance to do back home. School always takes over during the academic terms. What a fun summer!

Interesting & shaking events in Chile

One day during my shadowing rotation in the Language School of the rehabilitation center, a little girl (who was maybe about 6 years old) ran up to me, looked at me with wide, bulging eyes, and said, “Por qué estás así?!” (Why are you like that?) while running a finger down my cheek. “Qué te pasó?” (What happened to you?) she continued asking, running another finger along my collarbone. I couldn’t help but laugh at her shock. “Es el color de mi piel,” (It’s the color of my skin) I told her.

This will stick with me forever. I’ve never encountered anyone - not even a child - who expressed such open shock at my appearance, or anyone who hadn’t before seen another black individual (whether in person or in the media). Not many blacks are found in the region (except for perhaps some Dominicans, some of whom have come to actually work in the sex industry. Yikes). I wish I had a little more time to clearly explain to the girl where I was from and why my skin appeared that way, but I was in transit to another class so I didn’t get the chance. It's important to enlighten others, especially young ones who haven’t before been exposed to certain things, including people of other races.

~*~

In late July, one of the other interns, Tessa, and I took a two-day trip to La Serena during our week off from work. On our second day before our night bus back to Santiago, we went to the movies to kill some time. (We ended up watching Wolverine). While waiting in line, the most surprising thing happened. A young black girl, who couldn't have been more than 15, came up to me and asked me in fluent Spanish to purchase a ticket for her. I said, “Sí, claro” (Yes, of course), took the money from her, and continued to wait my spot in line, which was about 20 people from the front. I turned to her as she walked away to join what I assumed was her family. I had so many questions. “Why’d she ask me and not someone further up in the line?” I think this aloud to Tessa. We both knew though. The girl had no idea who I was, where I was from, or even if I spoke any Spanish, but she felt comfortable enough to just walk up to me, someone who she could identify with, and ask this small favor. Whether her roots are African-American, African, Afro-Caribbean, I have no idea (maybe Brazilian? Who knows). But she was black, and likely an adopted child of a Chilean family. 

~*~

During our trip to La Serena, I thought I’d go half blind. It happened on our way up to the Cruz del Tercer Milenio (Cross of the Third Millennium) in Coquimbo, Chile. This is the tallest monument in South America and the only one worldwide built to recognize Jesus Christ’s crucifixion. We rode our bikes all the way along the coast from La Serena, the neighboring town. Our ride had to turn into a walk because the streets became too steep. Tessa and I pushed our bikes up the hill to reach the cross. Now that was a workout. We were drenched in sweat once we reached the top. There were another two or three sets of stairs we had to climb before reaching the cross and the entry point to its museum. I was running low on energy to physically carry my bike up the first flight of steps, but I attempted to anyway.

As I picked up my bike, and before I even took my first step, gravity caused the handlebars to twist and one of them got me smack dab in my right eye. They were rubber, but it was still painful. I yelled out and dropped the bike as my hand flew up to my eye. A few people in the area walked over and called out to me, asking if I was alright. Tessa was already ahead of me and couldn’t hear or see what was going on from the top of the stairs. When I opened my eyes again I felt something liquidy on my right cheekbone. I started to freak out because I thought I was bleeding. It was actually my contact lens, which I tried carefully to place in the palm of my hand, but it fell on the ground instead. This is when the freaking out was in full swing. I basically couldn’t see out of my right eye (I could only see blur; my eyesight is terrible) and my contact lens pretty much disappeared. I ended up finding it after about 10 minutes of frantic searching, thankfully, and with the help of other friendly Chileans from the small town of Coquimbo, who were very open and genuinely concerned about what happened to me. 

~*~

On our bike ride along the coast, we stopped for a while at a fish market. One man pointed at me and yelled, “Brazil!” It wasn’t in the form of a question. I laughed and shook my head.

“No eres brasileña?” [You’re not Brazilian?] he asked in surprise.

“No, soy estadounidense,” [No, I'm American] I told him.

This was in La Serena, 7 hours north of Santiago, the capital. Up here, more people have mistaken me for Brazilian, whereas further south, in Punta Arenas, there’s more the assumption that I’m either American or Dominican.

~*~

 

One of the stupidest things I could’ve done while here (and ever) was go trekking with only one good eye. I'll explain. A few weeks ago on a Sunday, I joined my homestay mom and dad, their daughter, her boyfriend, and Tessa on a trekking excursion. The day before, I accidentally tore my contact lens (long story), 20 minutes before we planned to leave to go kayaking. And of course I didn't remember to bring replacement lenses with me. I couldn’t go on the trip half blind and mentally ill-prepared with this stress, so I put that off. The next day I wanted to join in on the family’s outing. It wasn’t like I couldn’t see out of my right eye, everything was just very blurry. Halfway through the trekking though, things got kind of tricky. The ground was muddy, wet, and slippery in certain areas of the reserve, and a few times we reached steep points…it would’ve been pretty ugly if I fell because I would’ve busted myself open. But thankfully we made it back, all of us in one piece!

~*~

On our flight back to Punta Arenas from Santiago in late July during our week off from work, we had a “layover" in another city called Puerto Montt. I was knocked out at my window seat when suddenly a woman from the back of the plane started screaming like crazy. This tore me from my sleep as I got up and turned around with the rest of the passengers. The woman continued her chilling screams, and I propped myself up on my knees in my seat to see what in the world happened to her. At first I thought she was about to give birth, but then I saw that she was clutching her knee. “Pero qué pasó?!” [What happened?!] people were whispering fiercely to each other. I still was not 100% sure what the problem was, but a doctor had to be called on board from inside the airport (we were already on the ground) to tend to a problem she was having with her knee. I had no idea if she fractured it (doing what though?), if she previously had surgery on it and it was acting up… no idea. But I’m glad we were able to resolve this while on the ground and not up in the air. This is the first time I encountered something this scary (mostly the uncontrollable screaming was terrifying) on a plane. 

Shadowing experiences - Part 2

With a few students during arts and crafts

We continued our shadowing rotations. This week, I helped at the special education school within the center, and next I’ll be working in the language school with young children who have language-based learning disabilities and expressive language disorders.

This is a school for disabled youth ranging in age from adolescence to late twenties; most have Down syndrome, but there are a number of other disabilities represented, including autism spectrum disorder and cerebral palsy.


On my first day, one of the instructors introduced me to the class as Débora and pointed out my legs. "Miren las piernas de Débora!" [Look at Deborah's legs!] she says excitedly to engage the class. "Son muy largas! Y las mías son muy chiquititas!" [They're very long. And mine are very verrry small!]

By the end of the week (today!) several students were already calling me “Tía” (which translates to “aunt”, but this is also an endearing term to address an older female, someone who is a family member, close friend, or perhaps a mentor … “Tío” would be for a man), greeting me with kisses on the cheek, and offering me some of their food at snack time.

Most of the students are adults, but they lack the capability to comport themselves as such. I’ve seen crying (if a classmate pinches someone else or steals a cookie from another classmate at lunch, for example), pouting, teasing, tattletaling…. Behavior you’d typically see amongst children.

One of the assistants, upon seeing yet another student cry in the lunchroom, called out positively to the group, “Oigan, ustedes son jovenes. Deben ser felices! No tienen nada de que llorar. No tienen trabajo, no estrés, no nada!” [Hey, you’re all young. You should be happy! You don’t have anything to cry about. No work, no stress, nothing!]

During the summer of 2007, before my first year of high school, I volunteered at a pediatric rehabilitation and family wellness center nearby my home in New Jersey. While there, I worked with special needs children and babies, assisting with hippotherapy (therapeutic horse riding) and speech therapy sessions at the summer camp. I’ve never before had the opportunity to work with disabled youth in another country wherein the context of the treatment (language, culture, society) is much different. What isn't different, however, is the dedication of the therapists, teachers and assistants to the well-being and security of the special needs students and patients.

This experience has been rewarding. The students have such a big sense of humor, as well as huge hearts, smiles, and personalities. It’s wonderful that they are able to join a close-knit community in this school; it's a safe space for them to interact with others who care about them and are able to relate to their experiences.

At the end of the day, I engaged in deep conversations with the Director of the school and the wood-shop instructor. They both asked a lot about me, the education system in the states, what life is like for an African-American like myself back at home, if I’ve ever encountered racism in the U.S. or here in Chile (nope, never), where my family is from (Jamaica), how social security and health insurance work in the states, what our most commonly used form of ID is (in other countries it’s not always the driver’s license), and much more. These conversations were a way to share with the Director and wood-shop teacher a bit about my upbringing and the current systems in the U.S. (legal, political, economic, etc), and to learn from them a bit more about their own home nation.

I look forward to shadowing in the language school next week!

Self-discovery in Chile

In Viña del Mar, Chile with a statue of Gabriela Mistral, the

only Latin American woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature

These past five weeks have certainly been a self-enlightening experience. My self-conception has grown and I've learned more things about myself that I previously have not been very aware of. These are a few random things specific to my character, personality, and interests.

What kinds of things? Well...

1) Laughter. I find a lot of things funny. It's like I'm being tickled all the time. In high school, my mother told me that I needed to tone it down a bit; laughing too much, even with close friends and family, was kind of a sign of immaturity. I was defensive at first, but I came to understand and agree with her. I've learned to dial my incessant chuckling back a bit, but I haven't sacrificed this facet of my personality. In a way, it makes me who I am. Laughter really is the best medicine anyone can get... and I like to overdose.

We've had quite a few funny moments with our homestay and throughout the trip. The most recent joke that comes to mind that my homestay mother made recently is that, in a few weeks, we would be able to see dreadlocks on her pregnant daughter's ultrasound because her daughter's boyfriend also has dreads.

Here are some other humorous and heart-warming moments we've had:

• The other two interns, our co-workers and I came up with nicknames for each other. This is common throughout Latin culture. These nicknames are endearing, usually picking on a certain unfavorable quality of the individual, and are said amongst family and friends (ironic, I know, but these are terms of endearment that may be difficult for any non-Latino to understand). For example, one might lovingly call an overweight relative "gordo" (fat), or a darker skinned friend "negra" (black). The nickname I earned here actually doesn't have anything to do with my physical features or personality. They started calling me “Danza Kuduro”, one of the best-known Latin songs ever. At one of the gatherings we had with one of our co-workers and her family and friends, I insisted they put on “Danza Kuduro” and that we all dance to it. Nobody was really into the music (insert shocked face here), so they teased me and started calling me “Danza Kuduro” after that ("Danza" for short). 

• One thing Tessa, Anjalene and I find hilarious is that Chileans have oftentimes mistaken other Chileans for Americans when they’re seen with us. When we went to Viña del Mar, we spent the day with our homestay sister, but other Chileans constantly mistook her for an American because she was with us, three U.S. interns who are obviously foreign (especially me). This happened again in the metro a few days later with our homestay brother; a Chilean man noticed that we were all a little confused and looking about, so he came over and began asking our homestay brother in English if he needed help.

• Chileans like to call out or approach me, Tessa and Anjalene in English (mostly broken). “What your name?” was a question thrown at us in one of our walks through La Serena, or simple “Hi!”s and "Hello!"s during our bike ride along the coast within the town :) What friendly people.

2) During this trip, while co-habiting a big, beautiful two-story home with about ten other people (including the other interns and our big homestay family), I learned something else about myself. I tend to avoid situations that would require others to exert energy for me. Strange, I know. It's not that I'm not appreciative of the favors people offer, or that I think I'm a high and mighty individual who can do everything on her own without the help of anyone. Not at all. My concern is that I do not want to be a bother to anyone. Others have helped me realize that I take this concern a bit far.

I started reflecting on this after seeing how selfless Monica, my host mother, is. She does a lot for everyone who visits and lives in the house. Family members and friends always pass through, day and night. I don't think there is ever a quiet moment in the home. The kitchen, dining-room and living-room are constantly filled with laughter, loud conversations in Spanish, the blaring TV, and smoke from everyone's cigarettes. Monica is a stay-at-home mom and she truly enjoys her job. She cooks, cleans, does everyone's laundry, shops for groceries and other house items, takes care of the two house dogs, keeps smiles on all of our faces… She does so much. Sometimes I feel bad when I have to ask her for small things because she has many other things to worry about.

Tessa brought it to my attention that when I feel it would be a bother for someone to do something for me, I try to have them forget about it by saying, “Maybe later," "Never mind," "Some other time.”

This hesitance to discommode someone else in any way is something I developed throughout my years (only with non-family though; I don't have a problem asking my family for help and favors) and carried with me into adulthood. In retrospect, I really don't know why I thought it would be bothersome to ask my homestay mom to take the milk out of the fridge for me, or to ask the other intern if she would mind picking up an item for me at the store. It's quite silly that I try to have such a complaisant disposition all the time, even over small things. I suppose it is a bit of a juvenile characteristic of mine (children are the ones who typically have meek, passive attitudes with non-family), but it's something I will grow past over time.


3) I love food. I appreciate it much more now… the variety of flavors and dishes here (and the deliciousness of it all) blows my mind. The food that host mom has prepared during our time here is served with care, warmth, and love.


Among my favorite dishes are:



Sopaipilla [Fried bread]




Empanadas de queso, camarón, mariscos!! (cheese, shrimp, and shellfish)



Ceviche - minced raw sea bass in lemon juice





Pizza con palta [Avocado pizza]





Camarón a la parmesana [Parmesan Shrimp]


I'm looking forward to learning more about myself, the people here, and the country.

Shadowing experiences at a rehabilitation center in Patagonia Chile

Corporación de Rehabilitación Club de Leones Cruz del Sur,

Punta Arenas, Chile

"Patagonia" refers to the southern region of South America shared by Chile and Argentina. The other two fellows and I are working at a rehabilitation center called Corporación de Rehabilitación Club de Leones Cruz del Sur. The center is dedicated to serving the physically or mentally disabled (of all age groups and conditions) here in Punta Arenas, Patagonia, Chile.

Punta Arenas is geographically isolated from central Chile. The efforts of the center and the help it has received from former fellows and other employees to provide extensive support to the disadvantaged and disabled in the community are tremendous. Medical conditions such as Down syndrome, cerebral palsy, and autism spectrum disorder are most commonly seen. During part of the day, Tessa, Anjalene and I are shadowing the rehabilitation specialists and during the rest of the day, we're performing data analyses of a sleep study that was conducted among college students in both Chile and Peru.

Main activity room in the center

The professionals I shadowed included kinesiologists, speech therapists, a pediatrician, and a nursing assistant. They are all immensely caring and very knowledgeable about their work. I’ve observed the pediatrician do a physical exam on a 10-year-old patient with Down syndrome who complained of a head cold. The nurse assistant fed liquid servings to a couple of children with cerebral palsy through an external tube that was inserted into their stomachs. I observed one toddler with a speech impediment say his first clear animal sound (“moo”) as he repeated after the speech therapist. It was moving to see the therapist’s excitement about the child’s progress (regardless of how little it may have been) as well as the heightened energy she had to sustain to keep the child’s attention for just half an hour. I observed the kinesiologists work with a couple of infants who were a little late in their crawling stages. All of the specialists work together in a wonderful way to improve the conditions of many individuals throughout this region.

A couple of patient cases

• The cases at the center aren’t always “uncomplicated”. Not all patients that come in with a certain disability are from “uncomplicated” backgrounds or circumstances, where they are raised by two loving parents who strive to do their best in making their lives as unburdensome as possible. I’ve seen one child (about four years old) with cerebral palsy in a therapy session with a kinesiologist. The child's father had a mental disability of his own, and the mother appeared depressed and much older than the dad.

• The center's pediatrician shared with me the story of a 15-year-old girl whose several-month old baby had been hospitalized since his birth. She was raped by a family member, chose to carry her pregnancy to term, gave birth to a baby with innumerable complications, and couldn't bring him home because he’s been hospitalized his entire life.

These stories and many others are heart-wrenching. It takes immersion experiences to see and understand the complexity of such situations that others are enduring. Unfortunate circumstances are globally ubiquitous and variable in their magnitude.

What can I do? I always ask myself this question when I learn about another person's hardships. Oftentimes I feel utterly useless. However, I'm learning more and more that even though I may not have the education and training to give a troubled individual therapeutic treatment for his ailments (mental or physical), let alone the wisdom to give advice about overcoming adversities, there are a couple of important things that I can do: Listen and respect.

Listen to the person's story to understand what she is going through, and allow the account of her difficulties to humble you and incite within you a desire to offer support and comfort. Respect her cultural upbringing, socioeconomic background, and lifestyle, at least one of which will have played a part in the incipience of her afflictions. Listening to and respecting others allows us to play a role (no matter how small) in remedying their hurt and troubles.