Teach Abroad in Chile

So many memories...

The Marrow of Modern Day Academia

Disclaimer: I don’t want to offend any educators or students, as I myself have grown up within the system. I went to a University, taught and even studied education.  I merely have some questions and thoughts as I consider graduate school and other life options. Please feel free to provide constructive feedback if you disagree or have any answers. 

“This as the system’s great flaw, and it enraged us. A pure meritocracy, we’d discovered, can only promote; it can’t legitimize. It can confer success but can’t grant knighthood. For that it needs class beyond itself: the high-born genealogical peerage that aptitude testing was created to overthrow” -Lost in the Meritocracy: The Undereducation of an Overachiever by Walter Kirn

At a quarter-life crossroads, I’m mired in a transitional period of confusion and incertitude about the direction I should go.  I just completed the book entitled Lost in the Meritocracy: The Undereducation of an Overachiever by Walter Kirn, and the book helped bring some my long-lasting,  lurking questions  about higher-education to the surface. I am HUGE believer in the value of education; I just wonder about the system we have created.

Throughout my undergraduate experience these questions seemed to linger:

     
1.  What are current universities in the USA  actually teaching?
      a  Is it just a ploy to delay people from entering  the saturated  work force or a test of patience/discipline for the fortunate?

b.      What motivates the majority of my generation to pursue a life in academia?
2.    What is the cost? (in currency AND  mental health)
3.       Where does it all lead? (Does having a degree or 2 mean that the holder is intelligent?)
4. Does it reinforce our class system like the opening quote suggests, as does the usage of the phrase  ivory tower? (should all education be free?)
5. With the rise of technology and access to information are formal institutions necessary to be educated? Does it make the degree more/less valuable and/or put more pressure on the academic institutions to demonstrate a high performing citizen after graduation?  (autodidact-a person who has learned a subject without the benefit of a teacher or formal education; a self-taught person.)

The older I get the more it seems like a Bachelor’s degree is no longer an option and is becoming a baseline requirement.  Increasingly it seems as though having a Masters and even a Doctorate degree are becoming the baseline pre-requisites to compete, though the power of luck and social-networking shouldn’t be forgotten as they are major part of the equation.

“     When I was a student at The University of Texas (UT), I often felt like I was just a number in a large bureaucratic machine and the only way to succeed was to figure out the system and jump through the hoops with patience. It was all based on some standardized tests and whether you were lucky enough to get a chance at a higher education. While I despised that at times, it gave me a purpose, validation and some amount of self-worth.  Though, it did NOT teach me wisdom, world experience, or coping mechanisms for life like a small part of me expected… and it even allowed some of my once sharp skills in Math (and other subjects) to atrophy without use.  I don’t regret any of it, but I do often question what exactly I learned, what do others learn and how do people end-up as students. Whatever I gained and/or lost in the process remains elusive.

 Kirn explains very clearly what an Ivy League education teaches to those who aren’t motivated, life-long learners and just want to make it out alive:

I couldn’t quote anyone, reliably. I’d honed other skills: for flattering those in power without appearing to, for rating artistic reputations according to academic fashions, for matching my intonations and vocabulary to the backgrounds of my listeners, for placing certain words in smirking quotation marks and rolling my eyes when someone spoke too earnestly about some ‘classic’ or ‘masterpiece,’ for veering left when the conventional wisdom went right and then doubling back if it looked like it was changing. Flexibility, irony, self-consciousness, contrarianism. They’d gotten me through Princeton [. . .] I’d found out a lot since I’d aced the SATs, about the system, about myself and about the new class that the system had created, which I was now part of, for better or for worse. The class that runs things.  

Many falsely surmise that degree holders (especially Ivy League Degree holders) are AUTOMATICALLY very smart, since it has become such a huge status symbol in current day society.  Without a doubt, there are students within the system that authentically learn because they love learning AND/OR are determined to master a skill (for a job and/or money); however, from my observations I would argue that they are the exception. Of course, there are many exceptions who graduate from Universities that aren’t uninspired students and aren’t purely motivated to learn the academic system so that they can graduate as swiftly as possible.

Maybe, if status, competition, self-advancement, the need for validation and recognition were less emphasized, perhaps higher-education institutions could inspire the majority of graduates to become life-long learners that seek out lessons all around them. It could be revolutionary for the state of our society, if we could adopt more heuristic teaching methods in place of so much rote memorization that only a specific type of learner excels at. 

 I admit that I care about my status to a degree. I also openly  admit that I want  to self-advance, and to reach my potential  but above all I want to lose myself in knowledge and authentic education, but I’m not sure where that will lead me.  It could lead me to be a self-effacing woman in the corner of a library, during her spare time or to be in a high-priced institution full-time.

Intrinsically Inescapable Inquiries  Increase, Infinitely!

 Am I just diluting myself and my craven passivity?
Am I actually DREADFUL of failure and/or pursuing the wrong degree, and that’s why I have yet to pursue Grad school?

Regardless if I decide to pursue a life in academia or elsewhere, the system is going to need dedicated, passionate educators to toil from INSIDE of the current system, if we want to keep improving society and maintain  the quality along with the reputation of higher-education in the USA as some of the best in the world.

 Should I take on such an enormous task of trying to improve our educational system? Or am I too sensitive, cynical and filled with too many tough questions to ever survive in such a system? Should I choose a life of errant daring, a life in academia   or something in between that I have yet to figure out?

 ..but  AT LEAST alliteration avails as I prefer pondering, provocative probing & profuse passion to pretense of positivity or  “consensual certitude” or awful,  abiding, apathy anytime. 

“Pause in your knowing to be known. Quit pushing—let yourself be pulled. Stop searching, frantic child and be found” - Walter Kirn

My Chilean Teaching Experience at DUOC and Advice

Circumventing the job search, I found my teaching opportunity through a Council on International Educational Exchange (CIEE) . After being accepted and completing all the prerequisites I was guaranteed a 10 month teaching contract in Santiago, Chile and an allotted salary to cover living expenses. I had no idea who or where I would be teaching until I got to Chile, but that’s what made it an adventure. 

 

I taught English as a Foreign Language (EFL) at DUOC a technical institute that was initially created for blue collared individuals and bared resemblance to a community college in the US. My students generally had a very low level of English and ranged in age from 18-30. However, age and maturity levels corresponded very differently from those in the US because expectations at school and at home were very dissimilar as result of distinct cultural norms. The majority of my students lived with their parents, and many of them had children and/or worked. In a country where the majority of the population is catholic, sex education is non-existent, abortion is illegal and condoms not only are expensive but sometimes also carry a social stigma, there are a lot of young people with children. To make a complicated situation worse, many of my students only took English because it was a requirement to become an Engineer, Graphic Designer, Accountant, etc. As a result, my class was often put on the backburner for many of my students. Consequently, I didn’t assign homework but in return asked for attendance and full attention. When frustrated by what I interpreted as rampant laziness and/or apathy, I tried to empathize with my intricate students’ lives and remained inspired by the students that were motivated and wanted to learn.

As a petite 24 year old girl that is often mistaken for a 19 year old, I had to work creatively to motivate them, to gain their respect, and to minimize their desire to take advantage of me. Many of my students had had never met someone from the US, so I considered myself an ambassador and was careful about broaching certain topics.  In order to play the role and set myself apart, I also thought of myself as an actress and  at the minimum I always dressed business casual .

With that in mind, bar none the first day of class and first 2 weeks were the most vital pieces in gaining respect, establishing classroom environment, and setting the tone for the semester. On the first day of class I gave my first impression: I established my  5 rules, policies and procedures; I introduced myself with humor; I brainstormed reasons to learn English as a class in an attempt to increase students’ self-motivation; and I had them individually complete a survey about their interests to demonstrate I legitimately care about them. During the first two weeks I had them display name cards. I considered it very important to immediately start learning their names and information about them from the student surveys. By gathering information on the first day and by talking to students throughout the semester, I tried to get to know my students so that I could personalize learning with their specific interests, establish a connection to use as a motivator, control the class by using their names during disruptions, and specifically call on them when I needed volunteers. To gain respect and establish my role, I was very strict in the beginning of the semester and eased up according the class dynamic, but I always reminded them that I truly cared about them.

 

Officially we were told to teach entirely in the target language and unofficially every professor used varying amounts of Spanish. . (There are tons of methods to minimize the use of the native language that should be utilized, just do a quick google search.)  I was a walking testament to the value of learning foreign languages, and I found that speaking Spanish helped build rapport: my accent and mistakes showed that I understood firsthand the difficulty of learning a second language; they enjoyed hearing stories my ridiculous stories of miscommunication from traveling; and they really liked teaching me slang. Sharing my experiences and poking fun at myself was conducive to creating a comfortable classroom since Chileans are extremely apprehensive to speak English

Classes were officially 1 ½ hours long. However, the combination of the institutes’ forgiving policies and the cultural differences about tardiness combined resulted in students chronically showing up late and often checking out early. If I started on time I would teach to an empty class room and would undoubtedly lose more teaching time, because I would have to repeat essential parts of the lesson to latecomers the entire class period. As a compromise, I would take role 15 minutes after class was supposed to start and then begin my lesson. I was punctual as an example and would play English music by students’ favorite bands (info I gathered from a survey on the first day of class) until I was ready to start. I also played music during activities and when I turned the music off it was a signal that I was ready to teach. I would allow students to walk in late, but I counted them absent and wouldn’t backtrack. I encouraged their on-time classmates to catch them up as a way of reinforcing what they learned. The most effective tools I found for keeping their attention was using humor throughout class along with pop-culture references and student names sprinkled through the examples, activities and PowerPoint lessons.

With everything aside, I want it to be clear that this is a success story, because I loved teaching in Chile! I know I helped in some small way and was able to create indelible bonds with a handful of students. I can only hope that my students learned ½ as much I did or that I at least sparked an interest in English and the US in a few of them. 

Quarter life rumination

Even as a self-proclaimed “child by choice,” 25 sounds old sometimes.
I know. I know it’s not. It’s relative.
But there is a small level of expectation that didn’t exist before.
I need to know I’m progressing even if age
doesn’t correlate to experience, knowledge, wisdom, or maturity.
That does NOT mean I want to start taking myself super seriously
or pretend I’m all grown-up even if 18 suddenly seems young. 
I don’t want to stop living fervently or even foolishly.
I want to get manic about spring, dance with reckless abandon, 
stay up all night talking to strangers without purpose,
impulsively drive to the middle of nowhere, dream of going around the world and
passionately compile stacks of books I’ll never get around to reading.
But I’m wary because I don’t have much time to waste.
Six years after the fact, I now understand why
my former boss said “you need more urgency.”
Never mind that she was talking about coffee. 30 will be here tomorrow.  
Until now, I felt like there would be 
“Time for you and time for me/
and time yet for a hundred indecisions/
and for a hundred visions and revisions.”  (T.S. Eliot) 

But now time has started accelerating. I barrel forward. Woosh. 

As a child, my mid-twenties seemed very distant. With curiosity and naivety, I used to dream of being 25. I was always very confident in my visions. At 25 my older sister was married, working and a mother of three. Imagining a similar fate was not a stretch. I pictured myself in a black & white portrait. I imagined children around, organized belongings, day-to-day stability and a certain ease in my mannerisms. Sprinkled wisdom twinkled throughout. WOW I couldn’t have been more inaccurate and our lives couldn’t contrast more.

Now aside from aging, I’m certain that I haven’t a clue of what lies ahead, I am very confident of the uncertainty. Life is red, yellow, orange, blue, indigo, green and violet paint swirled together. It’s infinitely more complicated, messy and chaotic than I could have ever conjured up in my little black & white daydreams. I yearn for some routine to manage easier.

These days, I wake up each morning. I open my eyes and wonder how I survived my teens and arrived at this prime age. I wonder how I got to be where I am. Where did chance lead? And where exactly did the ripples from the butterfly effect begin?

I grazed a colossal ice-berg last year.

Traveling left me dreaming of possibilities, drooling over opportunities I didn’t know existed. I saw the potential for life and conversely understood the potential for its waste. There are so many places I want to go, people I want to meet on the road, and an infinite amount I have yet to learn. There is so much I don’t want to miss, and so the sound of the second hand ticking seems amplified! My fear of getting stuck in a rut is more terrifying than ever.

Transitions…. Everyone goes through them but that doesn’t make them easier. My resolve hasn’t hardened with age; I only grow more sensitive. Bracing myself, I get ready to leap yet again. Prepared to swim, wade, dance and float. I Inhale deeply to the mantra trust, and then I gingerly dive.

With awareness, gentleness, and kindness I have to trust everything will work.

stuck on this loveliness.

Delicate dream filled twilight world: Transitioning back to life in the US

Unconsciously I lean over to throw my toilet paper in the trash and just as I’m about to drop it, I remember that I’m in the US. I mutter “gracias” under my breath as the waiter delivers my iced drink. Two days ago I got back to the US. Immediately my South American adventure seemed like a dream that happened world’s away in a place where swimming pool noodles and Christmas trees are sold together. Completely surreal.

Aside from the occasional reminders like accidentally ordering in Spanish, everything appears eerily unchanged. I quickly began to ask myself “have I really changed?” A comforting familiarity that was virtually nonexistent while abroad looms in the air. My apartment is littered with boxes I happily left behind. They are filled with old possessions like mixed CDs, school projects, unfinished books, dvd box sets, a bike helmet, dusty clothes, and photo albums. Inessential, they are reminders of old identities and memories that I can’t seem to part with. “Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you” (Fight Club). Falling back into my old life is effortless just like floating down stream.

When someone asks, “How is it to be back?” or “How were your travels?” I’m not sure if they want a simple one-word answer like “nice” or if they are interested in hearing the truth. I get the feeling that they are looking for the short answer and the question is posed out of politeness. Regardless, I decide to answer the perfunctory question(s) truthfully, because I really want to know the answer myself. I hesitant though, because I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging or preachy.

I search for concise meaningful answer(s) but am unable to paraphrase 13 months for any question. My answers are based on erratically triggered recollections. Momentary flashbacks spontaneously surge from things like peeling an avocado, to hearing an Adele song, to smelling coffee, to feeling highly pressurized water rinse my skin. I give anecdotal answers. They are sporadic at best. In my native language ironically I painstakingly struggle to communicate while the listener struggles to relate. I feel like a foreigner lost in translation.

I have a strong desire to be reticent, since it seems so much easier. I could spare boring people and be certain that I don’t get misunderstood. Bewildered, I know something has changed…

"Como fue? no se decirte como fue no se explicarme que pasó pero de ti me enamoré Fue una luz que eliminó todo mi ser"

Learning to Let Go

In less than a week, I will leave the noisy, humid, exhilarating city of Buenos Aires and return to Texas. I will have been gone for exactly 13 months. As I was preparing to leave for Chile, I wrote this “. As the departure date February 22nd 2011 transforms from a distant daydream into an imminent reality, now that my plans and a dream of mine come to fruition, I feel a smorgasbord of contrastive emotions to include the following but not exclude unlisted emotions: excitement, anxiety, mania, fear, gratefulness, elation, disbelief, unworthiness, joy, phantasmagorical and nervousness. The internal sloshing has concocted some bewildering cocktails.” (I just had to look up phantasmagorical haha, neat word though doesn't really make sense. Actually, I would rephrase the sentence entirely but that's neither here nor there.)

Now 13 months later, I’m going through a similar process again. Only this time, the place I am returning to is much more familiar. I know exactly what my house will smell like and that the air-conditioning will be humming day and night at 70 degrees. I know the feeling of cold tile that I will be walking on. In spite of all this, my life in the US has become like a distant dream. When I think about how life changing has been, I can only hope that it will not all fade to black.

Buenos Aires, A Whole New World

I woke up craving milanesa and to the sound of traffic whizzing by. I actually pinched myself and David to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. On February 22^nd exactly one year after leaving the US, I picked up my two 50 pound suitcases, boarded an airplane, and said goodbye to Chile. After a short flight, I arrived in Buenos Aires where I will be hanging my hat for the next month. I am living in an apartment with a middle-aged Argentinian woman that I met from this website http://www.coret.com.ar/ She named all of her rooms after tango songs, and mine is aptly named “cuartito azul” .

When I arrived to the apartment (on zero sleep) after moving my life from Santiago to Buenos Aires, I started to rant about how excited I was to see clouds and feel wind, and the lady looked at me like I fell off my rocker. I didn’t know it was possible to miss wind. However, after living in a smog desert for a year, I can tell you it certainly is. I’ve only been here a few days, but I am already enamored with Buenos Aires, because this city is overflowing with personality. Perhaps it’s premature, but I already have started making a list of things that BA has that Santiago didn’t have: diversity of skin color/food, free education, cheap books nearly every few blocks, art and value placed on it, music, style that isn’t from the 80s, Spanish that is laced with an Italian accent and people who don’t whisper or cut off syllables as often.

That isn't to say that Santiago has nothing to offer or that BA is perfect. Buenos Aires' streets are much more dirty, the taxi drivers drive as if they were in bumper cars, there are ridiculous rates of inflation and everything is all around more chaotic.

We are living in San Telmo, one of the most touristy areas in BA. It’s a hipster’s paradise. Today we walked through a Sunday antiques market that was filled with hundreds of people from all over the world. I saw a woman dressed up as Frida Kahlo singing, a man dressed as Charlie Chaplin, people dancing tango, and a man playing classical guitar. They were selling an assortment of things that ranged from pocket watches, to crystal glasses, to siphons, to old advertisements, to books about communism, to Panama hats. The city is enormous and it seems to have everything. The amount of excitement and life makes me dizzy. It seems to have most of the things from home I was missing without all of the anxiety and stress that the US has. I couldn’t feel more lucky to be here..

"Nothing lasts but nothing is lost"

“ ‘I know I ain’t got no talking room, but a boy like you shouldn’t be on the bum [slang for on the road with the circus]. I’ve been on the bum and it ain’t no life.’ […] ‘If you got a life to go back to I reckon that’s what you should do.’ [says Camel to Jacob] It’s a moment before I can answer. When I do, my voice cracks ‘I don’t.’ [replies Jacob the protagonist]”-Water for Elephants

I don’t think anyone moves away for a year if they have a lot tying them down. Generally, people move because they need an escape or are searching for something. Recently, I watched a movie about North American nomads that travel west. There is something very romantic and appealing about the notion of constant travel and adventure. I like the idea of floating from place to place. Journey without destination is beautiful to me. Though the more I mull over the idea, the more I realize that fear is driving me.

David pointed out that everyone in the documentary had something in common: they were all running from something. I consider myself a little bit of a travel addict. Up until recently, I always assumed it was just something innate in my bones; a congenital disease of sorts. And perhaps that is partially true. However, I am coming to realize that I fear living in a stifling box where I live for work, though I also fear unemployment. I am deathly afraid of complacency, stagnant years and predictable days. I am afraid of being tied down, wasting potential, and of no longer having dreams laden with youth. I run from normalcy and tremble at the thought of ever being considered normal.

At the same time, a part of me craves relationships that are more than transient. There are moments when I would do anything to be cradled by a comfort that can only come from familiarity that has grown over the years. As my South American adventure nears its end, I am left wondering how can I live a life of both adventure where I push my limits regularly and a life of stability and long-lasting meaning? There has to be an answer…right..right? Are my fears inevitable? Will it be just another self -fulfilled prophecy?

Iguazu Falls, Argentina (Part 1)

At the beginning of December I finished my teaching contract at DUOC. My mom and 82 year old grandma arrived in the middle of giving and grading final exams. Not long after, I began 6 weeks of travel, 2 with my mom and grandma, and my life has been a whirlwind of travels, goodbyes, and trying to figure what to do next ever since. I have tried to keep my various travels separate in my mind like marbles, but I have found that the more time passes, the more they mix together in my mind like flour and water. Sticky. This is an attempt to separate the ingredients in order to preserve them and gain perspective.

On December 10^th 2011 we flew to Iguazu which is on the border of Argentina and Brazil. It was a warm, humid jungle reminiscent of the Peruvian Amazon. On December 11^th, 2011 we woke up early to go on a full-day tour of what was recently named one of the new 7 wonders of the world. We took a train to the top of the waterfalls, and the first thing we came to was “the devil’s throat” (la garganta del Diablo). It’s an enormous, U-shaped waterfall that can only be visited from the Argentinean side.
On the walk we saw a rainbow and coatis; they’re like a south American raccoon. Thirsty for our sweat, butterflies followed us around making the experience even more surreal.


After visiting the devil’s throat, we hiked below over 200 waterfalls. Unreal.

After our hike, we went on a boat below the waterfalls. It was terrifying but also exhilarating and of course unforgettable. We got soaking wet. I was left with puddles in my shoes. Jeans were not a good choice.
During our waterfall adventure my 82 year old grandma hurt her foot. A week later in Santiago, they diagnosed it as a spider bite that could have led to paralysis and immediately gave her an anti-venom shot. When she returned to the USA, we found out that she had in fact fractured her foot and limped all over Buenos Aires on it. (Next entry Buenos Aires)

I Hope You Find What You're Looking For

Sometimes I think that my last entry was just a bunch of hogwash. I feel strong some moments and equally weak during others. Reading charles buwkoski has made writing about finding inner-strength seem like silly drivel. Actually, every time I write in this blog, I feel ridiculous because I'm well aware that my thoughts aren't that interesting (unless you're my parents), but I continue to do so in hopes that it serves some personal purpose.

Ever since I got to Chile, I have been trying to figure out what motivated people to come here. Three girls that are extending their stays have found Chilean boyfriends. Two girls left the program early, and had boys waiting for them back home. It could be a coincidence, but I am inclined to think not. Romance and love are powerful motivators, even if no one likes to admit it. Another person I met realized that he was ready to return to the US to finish his bachelor’s degree. Some were looking for an easy way to postpone the bleak career search back in the US and just wanted a sabbatical year. Some were running from things and just needed an escape. Some wanted a cultural experience that involved Spanish and needed adventure to satiate their wanderlust. Some wanted a combination.

As for my motivations, I am not sure what I was searching for. All I know is that I wasn’t looking for love. And I wasn’t coming here to figure out if I liked teaching; I already knew that I did. To my own surprise, I’ve recently realized that I might actually be ready to go home (future travel adventures not out of the question), and I'm certain that I'll miss a lot of things here . So perhaps, just perhaps I have found something. Not inner strength but something more elusive, though I might be mistaken.

Resilency Amazes Me

"Algún día en cualquier parte, en cualquier lugar indefectiblemente te encontrarás a ti mismo, y ésa, sólo ésa, puede ser la más feliz o la más amarga de tus horas"."Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.” (Pablo Neruda)

With 5 weeks left in the semester and spring in full bloom, I can’t help but glance back and reflect on the distance I’ve traveled. This Chilean adventure has been one hell of a roller coaster. Everything has felt more intense here. Friendships are made much faster as a foreigner, because time is limited and travelers share an instant camaraderie that is unlike anything else.

In “normal” life in the United States, people occasionally go through transitions when starting a new job, moving, or making new friendships. However, traveling abroad has been a bunch of transitional phases strung together: First there was the high of getting to know Chile and everyone in my program. Then, I had to get used to the language, move into a house, and adapt to teaching in a new environment. Later, I went through culture shock and got home sick. In between, I traveled to Peru and Uruguay. Then this place magically became my home. Now as I prepare for my South American travels to Argentina, San Pedro de Atacama, and Patagonia, I’m realizing that it’s time to let go of it all. It’s a struggle, but I’m learning that it’s okay for things to be temporary. At times I wonder if the energy I put into all these things was a waste, but in reality I know that nothing here has been a waste.

A year ago, my biggest fear came true: my dad (one of my best friends in the world) had a heart attack and underwent a quadruple bypass surgery, along with many other health complications. Instantly my world was shattered and something inside of me permanently shifted. I don’t even remember what I was doing for Halloween last year, and it’s my favorite holiday. This year, I’ll be in Argentina living out what will in the future be my glory days. This sharp contrast has help me realize just how far I’ve traveled and changed during this year of challenge. While I may not be completely over what happened last year, I have come to trust in my inner strength, as I have learned to confront my biggest fears, learned to stretch my comfort zone and learned to live in a state of transition. Nothing has been a waste, not even when I stumbled and made grave mistakes. Everything I have experienced since last year has allowed me to live life in the moment, learn from mistakes and find meaning in the chaos. That may sound trite but it certainly is true.

"That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." -Emily Dickinson

If You Don't Like Things, You Leave/For Some Place You've Never Gone Before

For as long as I can remember, my dad has been telling me “there is no magic age where you become an adult. At the age of 61, I still don’t know if I’m an adult.” Nevertheless, I have been waiting in vain for a magic epiphany; the moment of clarity where I not only know precisely where I stand but also where I am going. Even though I was forewarned, some small part of me expected Chile to give me exactly that.

As another season passes and signs of Spring emerge, a lot of my friends are making concrete plans that include fancy jobs, graduate schools, big cities, and more traveling for their futures. Simply put, they know (or are at least pretending to know) what they are doing after this Chilean adventure comes to its grand finale. In all honesty, I don’t want to compare myself to them or feel pressured to map out my life, because I am not them. (If anything, I more often relate to Dustin Hoffman’s character in The Graduate. He has high expectations placed on him, yet his anxious pseudo-bohemian soul rebels after college because he's in search of something more profound, outside the typical life.)

I am determined to take the road EVEN less traveled that is paved by me and me alone. But some part of me can’t help but wonder and at times obsess about the unwritten future, as I am pummeled with anxiety-inducing questions about my next step .

As I think about where the endless numbered days have gone and where I am head so many questions surface: what have I learned; have I been a good teacher; have I made the most of this experience; am I making progress as an individual; will I fall back into old habits; where have I been and where in the world am I going?

I don’t feel lost as I w(o/a)nder, and I don’t feel found. If anything I feel like Chile has brought me to the lost and found. Being here has allowed me to learn, change, grow, and become infinitely more self-aware and feel more alive than I would have in the US within this allotted time…so in that way I feel more found than I did at the beginning. But I am lost (and at a loss of words) because I can’t articulate those lessons, though I know between thought and expression lies a lifetime. So taciturnly, I find myself ruminating about the ‘lost and found’ or the grey, in-between place where I regularly find myself residing. I just have to regularly remind myself that it’s okay not to know, because there is no magic adult age, and there will never be a magic life plan. I will continue to make things up as I go along. I wouldn’t want to live with clairvoyant visions anyways. Some people dream about buying an Audi, some dream about a life in academia, others dreams about a weekend trip to the beach, and I dream about the process of ambitiously traveling…not only to foreign countries but to a place where I’m evolving, giving freely of myself, experiencing, fearlessly loving, pursing happiness, and making the most of my time in whatever crazy situation that I indubitably will find myself in.

With that dream and goal, I do not want to sound overly romantic, idealist, or naive about my freedom/future , because I am well aware that I am still living the finite dreams of a 20-something year old. Miranda July aptly explained life’s phases: ‘It’s kind of about letting go of that feeling of my 20s, that feeling that I will do absolutely everything, I will have sex with everyone, I will go to every country,’ she says. ‘In your 30s, it’s obvious that a finite amount of things will happen.’ [Then] ‘We’ll be 40 in five years.’ [Next] “Forty is basically 50. And then after 50, the rest is just loose change.’ And then the mid-life crisis often comes brought on by mortality terror.At time same time, I refuse to give in to those stereotypes without a wholehearted attempt to follow my dreams.

"we shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time" T.S Eliot

"If I can't dance I don't want to be part of your revolution"

Chilean Student Movement from Brittany Peterson on Vimeo.

two day strike-huffington post

Chile's national strike

Where’d all the time go? See How The Hands Go Waving Goodbye

Today is the 6 months mark since I left the US. My mind is a carousel of pictures fixated on reflecting. Last night while skyping with my parents my mom said, “the time has flown” and my dad interrupted with “No it hasn’t!” I replied, “It feels like a long time.” I’d be lying if I said the time has flown, but it also hasn’t dragged like heavy furniture.

These past 6 months have been a roller coaster. The first month I was just a tourist. At the three month mark, I was going through culture shock. Six months later and this truly is my life. Even though I will always be a strange impostor in this country, I have grown attached to many people and things here. That is not to say I don’t miss people or things. However, my life at “home” is becoming a distant memory. I left my life packed away in unorganized boxes scattered between houses and not only do I not miss my possessions but I also don’t remember what are in those (now indubitably) dusty boxes.

I’ve purposefully tried to let go of my life in the US and the obsession of my future so that I could make this my home. I haven’t always succeeded in my goal but since home is just an abstract idea, I have succeeded in making this my home and given enough time could probably make one anywhere---MINUS all the people I love that are thousands of miles away, an important thing that can’t be overstated .

Nowadays my pen is heavy and writing is forced. Novelty has faded as my new life has formed. I no longer think twice as I go to kiss someone on the cheek. I actually prefer it to the handshake. I find myself dozing off when I ride the metro, just like all the other Chileans. I unconsciously switch from English to Spanish. And while August snow was weird and November swimming will be something I have to get used to, I’ve come to the realization that the people here are not so different from those in the US. Yes, there are still obvious cultural differences but underneath it all their lives, dreams/aspirations, worries, motivations, and life questions are not so dissimilar. Their language, idioms, and methods of communication may be distinct but their general messages are the same.

At the start of this adventure, I was certain that traveling abroad would make me appreciate my life in the US more: my car, my culture, Targets on every corner, and the general easy access to nearly everything. And although it’s definitely more apparent now how easy things can be in the US, it’s clear the important lessons I’m learning are far different than I would have ever guessed. Here, I don’t have easy access to everything but that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy. In the US I have everything at my fingertips but that doesn’t translate into instant happiness. I’m learning that no matter where I go or where my life leads, I have to adjust my attitude and work with what I’ve got, both inwardly and outwardly while simultaneously accepting the things I can’t control. Being proactive is the only option if I am going to go in the direction that I need to; I can change roads so long as I’m moving in the right direction.

These things might seem trite and overly obvious but I had to experience and discover them on my own journey to actually understand. I’m not afraid of the hazy, unwritten future anymore. I look forward to all that waits, knowing that I will blink and all this will be gone because naturally all streets come to an end.

"We all do what we can so we can do just one more thing

We can all be free

Maybe not with words

Maybe not with a look

But with your mind"

Everybody is Searching for Something: Peru 2 Weeks (Part 1 The Jungle)

When examining how one thing differs from another, there can arise a tendency to assign value and priority, to proclaim one reality better or more important than another. In what follows, then, we need to remember that this particular journey aims not to compare in order to put down, but only to identify the differences between distinct realities, each of which is valuable and useful. -The Spirituality of Imperfection

After two days back in Chile and two weeks in Peru, I’m viewing my memory reel in reverse, scrolling backwards in an attempt to process everything. The thing is I’m certain that processing my Peruvian experience could take an extensive period of time; the lessons I learned are elusive and ineffable and exist beyond immediate perceptions. I’ve found answers but have yet to figure out the questions.

After 5 months in Santiago I was in desperate need of a vacation. Some people think that Santiago is an escape and a vacation on its own. However, at the end of the semester the stress of living so far from home felt like a case of bricks pressing down on my spine. The little things really do add up and my seams were slowly coming unraveled. Trying to communicate in Chilean Spanish is a constant battle that leaves me lost in translation and makes everything more difficult than it would be normally. Fighting the apathy of my students was becoming more than I could handle. Feeling cold from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep was getting hard to ignore. The horrific smog was giving me chronic chest pains. Not being able to leave Santiago for such an extended period of time left me feeling trapped and with a strong case of wander lust. It goes without saying that I was stoked and felt extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to travel to Peru for 2 weeks. I would not only get to escape Santiago but would also get to see a different South American country, allowing me to make more extensive cultural comparisons.

Since writing about everything in one blog post seems nearly impossible, I’m going to write about Peru in segments and start with the jungle experience or the first part of the adventure. On July 22^nd, I flew out of Santiago and into Lima. Immediately the airports, crazy traffic/driving, innumerable markets, and lack of police in Peru appeared haphazard, even more so than in Chile. On July 23^rd, I woke up early to catch a flight from Lima to Cuzco to Puerto Maldonado. We were picked up by our personal tour guide Albert, who would spend the next 3 days and nights with us, teaching us not only about the mysteries of the jungle but also the natives of the area. We traveled on a small boat down a giant river for an hour to a lodge in the Amazonian Jungle where we would make a home for the next few days.

We only had electricity from 6pm-10pm, so we quickly became accustomed to going to bed with the sun and waking up at around 4:30 am to the sounds of howler monkies (similar to the sound of a lion or alien ship). We took cold showers, slept in mosquito nets and a film of humidity clung to us like saran wrap at all times.

On the day of our arrival, we went on an unplanned dusk to darkness night walk. Albert pointed out (I’m sure we didn’t see a lot) the only night monkey in the world, a wolf spider, a snail snake, a tree frog, and a tarantula. The sounds we heard when the sun disappeared were unbelievable, and the noises included anything from grasshoppers to copious birds to things you hear on a rainforest CD to things only the imagination can create when being flooded by adrenaline in the dark. On the second day we woke up early and went to a natural reserve for a long walk where we saw red and black army ants, leafcutter ants, and even the infamous bullet ant (if you don’t know what that is look it up)! Then we got in a canoe and saw parrots, parakeets, macaws, kingfishers, swallows, spider monkeys, bats, and butterflies that drank fluids from the eyeballs of turtles. Of course this list is incomplete and is only intended to paint a partial picture. That night we went to Monkey Island and were lucky enough to see a small, cute squirrel monkey and feed brown, white and hybrid capuchin monkeys. Apparently, they will choose Oreo’s to bananas when given the choice. On the way back to our lodge, we rode along the river at night. We spotted capybaras (an animal that is cross between a rat and a pig—they are the biggest rodent in the world!), white and dwarf caymans (omnivores that remind me of alligators) and more stars than I have seen in years.

The next morning we woke up at 4 am in order to visit the clay lick where hundreds of parrots, macaws, and parakeets feed. That afternoon, we walked across a high canopy and zip-lined through the jungle. While walking through the jungle on our way to the high bridge, we caught a glimpse of the largest termites on the planet moving their home with their rarely seen queen . Then, we ate lunch, rested in hammocks and went kayaking down a huge river (“Madre de Dios"). Our final night in the jungle, we ate a delicious dinner and then drank a drink translated as “7 roots.”

I’m certain that if spirituality was a place, it would live in that jungle. I saw dead animals being eaten, eggs being hatched, and fungus making a home in fallen tree branches. Everything in the jungle was not only giving but receiving in a beautiful balance of reciprocity and interconnectedness. The pace of life was slower and seemed more natural than the disconnected fast paced life I lead. There were fewer possessions, no internet or TV, and therefore a lot of time to ruminate about life. Surrounded by the cycle of life and intricate breathing trees, something inside me shifted in a positive way. I felt in awe to be part of such a cycle but also insignificant. I left the jungle suntanned, radiating, and feeling at peace with life’s natural order.

I’m going to jump ahead to the end of our trip for now, because that sense of peace was put to the test yesterday. The day after we got back to Santiago, David was followed from the bank after cashing his check, and he was robbed at gunpoint during the middle of the afternoon. He had over 800 dollars stolen, an expensive utilitarian Patagonia jacket taken, his credit card, Chilean ID and sense of security all looted. I was wary about the rampant poverty in Peru and was completely caught off guard yesterday. I’m happy that he is safe but am left wondering if there is a lesson to be learned between these extreme contrasting experiences.

(CLICK ON "THE JUNGLE" LINK TO SEE THE PICTURES AT YOUR OWN PACE AND NOT CUT OFF)

Jungle - slide show

Haiku

Live the jungle life

Have airless realizations

Make a circle home

Now with my trusty paperclip, I picked locks of thoughts vault finding the garden barren

In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused- Hemingway .

Equality, Tolerance, and Human Rights for all People Despite Their Sexual Orientation

In a country where gays are too often discriminated against, it was beautiful to see thousands of people march in favor of same sex marriage laws on June 25^th in Santiago’s central square. It was wonderful to see so many people allowed to express their sexuality openly, in an environment free from judgment and violence. I can only hope that the unprecedented turnout will have a positive impact on the movement, even if it’s a slow process. If Argentina and Mexico city (and NY!) have legalized gay marriage, then there is no reason why Santiago shouldn't follow in their footsteps.

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