Last days in Tortuguero

I had a mixed couple days here at La Rana Roja the last two days. Two nights ago I got to do one of the turtle tours and see the giant sea turtles come up on the beach and lay their eggs. It was an absolutely magical experience and there was something so prehistoric about it. The turtles were ENORMOUS, weighing almost 600 pounds. I'd never seen one so big in real life. It was a fantastic experience. The next day was different. It literally poured rain all day yesterday, and while it was a warm tropical rain it didn't really leave me in the mood to hit the beach or even the pool for that matter. As a result I spent most of the day reading and hanging around the lodge. As relaxing as it was, it got lonely and boring pretty quickly. Today was much better. The weather was better for one, so I got to spend the morning sunning myself by the pool. After lunch (chickpeas, beef, rice, fried plantains and potato salad) I made it a point to get myself over to the town of Tortuguero, since my lodge is not actually in the town. I had to wait on one of the lodge's docks for my water taxi, which is what I'm doing in the picture below.

It's not far to Tortuguero, less than five minutes by boat. If the water wasn't full of crocodiles and caimans I would have loved to swim there, but I chose to not be eaten instead.
Tortuguero is a tiny, poor town that thrives solely on the tourist industry. This is the "main street." I asked a woman in a souvenir shop how to get to the beach and she pointed me in the right direction.
Which is how I came upon this...
This is probably my favorite beach I've ever been to. I've never experienced Caribbean water before, it's SO WARM! The water was almost warmer than they air outside because of a light breeze. I stood with my feet in the water for close to half and hour just soaking it all in. Then I went and found a piece of driftwood to sit on.


"Pura Vida" is the Costa Rica's motto. It means "pure life."
This house was facing the ocean. It's crazy to me how poor the people here are, and yet if this kind of property existed in California they would have to pay millions to own it.
One last look out at the river from the pueblo before I boarded my water taxi home. Fabulous day.

Costa Rica So far (Days 1-3)

After twenty-four hours of traveling (13 of which were spent sitting in the Mexico City airport) I finally arrived to Costa Rica. As soon as I got off the plane I felt the temperature change. It’s the dead of winter right now in Santiago and they are experiencing record low temperatures. While it is technically winter here as well, you would never know it. It’s balmy and warm from when the sun comes up at 5:30AM to well after it sets. It was late when I got in so I immediately found a cab and headed to my hostel where I collapsed into bed without so much as brushing my teeth.

The hostel in the capital city of San José was perfectly nice. I shared a 6-bedroom dorm with a few German girls. They had a pancake breakfast in the morning that was quite good. I didn’t do much in San José, partially out of exhausting and partially out of a lack of stuff to do. The hostel wasn’t in the downtown area and it was in a smaller residential part of town. I found a couple of good restaurants for lunch and dinner but for the most part hung around the hostel, reading in the sunshine and Skype chatting with friends. I spent one more night there and then the following morning set off for Tortuguero, a city on the Caribbean coast.

To arrive in Tortuguero seemed easy enough. Take a cab to the bus station, take a bus to another bus and take that bus to a boat. What I didn’t count on was the heat and the fact that I am carrying 6-months worth of luggage with me everywhere I go. The first bus ride was fine and beautiful. This country is so lush and green. When we arrived at the spot to pick up the next bus we had to walk to another bus station, and while it was only a few blocks away it turns out that a few blocks in blazing sun lugging close to 100 pounds of luggage with you is quite a feat. By the time we were at the second station I felt dizzy and sick and had to sit down immediately. The women at the food stand in the terminal noticed I was looking ill and were so kind and helpful. They brought me ice for my water and turned one of their fans to face me. They also brought me a cup of warm milk and sugar, which they said would help balance out my equilibrium. I sat there and ate a $3 plate of rice, beans and chicken and sipped my water. After an hour or so I began to feel better. Now all there was to do was wait another hour and a half for the next bus.

The next bus was not quite as “luxurious” as the first. In fact it appeared to be an old school bus. I sat in the front with some Costa Rican guys and chatted in Spanish for most of the ride. This bus ride took us through banana , which were really cool to see. After about an hour we arrived in Pavona where we would be taking a jetty into Tortuguero. We boarded little boats and set off down a beautiful river. It was exactly like the Jungle Cruise ride in Disneyland, except that it was real. We saw turtles and birds and they told us there are crocodiles and caimans in the water, although I didn’t see any. The boat ride was a little over an hour long but I could have stayed on it for longer. All the views were breathtaking. The boat actually brought me right up to my lodge where I disembarked with the help of one of the guides.

Okay, now this lodge, I was under the impression that it was something like a hostel. What it actually is is a jungle resort. As we walked through to reception I saw a giant pool and a restaurant. At reception I was greeted with “You must be Melanie” and a glass of cool guava juice. My guide took me to my room, winding through the trees and other cabins. I saw spiders as big as my hand and I could hear howler monkeys above me. I requested a single room but it seemed they didn’t have any instead I was put in an enormous room with my own bathroom. I took a shower and went to find the wi-fi. It’s next to the other pool, the bar and the other restaurant. I can’t believe this place. All for $25 a night. Of course there’s no where to eat except in their restaurants and buffet hall, and I expect that’s where they get you. Guess I’ll just have to be careful how much I eat.

Today I spent the morning sunning by the pool and tonight I’m going to do the turtle tour where I get to see turtles laying their eggs along the beach. It’s the beginning of turtle season so I’m very excited. I’ll let y’all know how the rest of the trip goes!

(View from my room!!!)

Ingles Abre Puertas

This is the essay I wrote as a conclusion to my internship in a Chilean school.

If you have never had the privilege of living in a culture other than the one you are accustomed to it is difficult to imagine how different life can be in another part of the world. After all, we are all human beings. We share many needs, desires and experiences, but until you step outside your comfort zone you may never understand exactly how acute the differences between two cultures can be. In my experience, one of the facets of Chilean culture that throws into sharp relief the contrasts between it and American culture is the school system. I had the pleasure of spending a great deal of time over the last six months observing at close range the Chilean school system in one of Santiago’s poorer areas. There I encountered a wide array of students, from those who did their work diligently, despite the often less than ideal classroom environment, to those who seemed to be in class perhaps only because they had nowhere else to go or nothing better to do. I examined not only the students but the teachers as well who face classrooms full of students often unwilling to listen or learn armed with the most basic English skills because of a severe lack of training or ability to practice. To say that this experience was easy would be a lie, but to say that it was rewarding, educational and everything I could have hoped for in an internship would be the absolute truth.

My first day as a student teacher at Liceo San Gerónimo was overwhelming, for lack of a better word. Just as I have encountered throughout all of Chile, the students were full of shock an awe to see a tall, blonde woman roaming their campus at ten in the morning. I was looked at with faces that expressed everything from wonder; as if they were looking at a mythical creature they thought was purely fictitious, to outright horror. I was grateful to find the teachers I would be working with and be guided to a classroom. As soon as I entered the classroom erupted in noise even more than it already had. I have never had so many eyes look at me so intently nor have I ever been so sure that every single person in a room was talking about me. The teacher, Vivian, introduced me to the class then had me slowly introduce myself in English. Even though I spoke as slowly and clearly as I could using simple language when I had finished the students all looked at me in disbelief, as though I had just spoken in some alien language they had never heard before. Keep in mind, these children were the oldest in the school, and had theoretically been studying English for eight or nine years. As the class began it became clear what my role would be: a walking dictionary/encyclopedia of everything English and American. Though our program directors had instructed us to speak in nothing but English it was clear to me that if I chose to do that I would be nearly unable to communicate effectively with any of the students.

My second class of the day was a class of children around ages eight or nine. I assumed this would be less challenging than my class with the older students, but I could not have been more mistaken. These children seemed even more captivated by the mysterious gringa than the others. I will never forget the first time I walked into that room to a cacophony of screams. They jumped and ran around, each one coming up to me individually kissing me, tugging at my hands and asking me questions I could barely understand. It was a daily battle to get this particular class to calm down whenever I was scheduled to help. In this class I acted more as a pronunciation robot, parroting phrases back to the children so they could see what they were supposed to sound like. It was clear that they could barely understand me, even at times with the definitions of the words I was saying written behind me on the board in Spanish. This was always the most exhausting part of the day. There was never a moment when every student was in their seat, quietly working. In fact there was never a moment of quiet the entire period.

My last class of the day was a class of older students. I had more or less the same experience with them as I did with the first class of the day, save for one young man who, for lack of a better phrase, fell in love with me the first day I walked into the class. Marcelo consistently sat in the seat closest to me, smiling broadly at me every time I looked in his direction, and constantly asking me questions. They started out innocent enough. “What do you like to do?” “Do you like Chile?” “Do you like soccer?” Always in Spanish, of course. But within a couple days the questions progressed to “Are you married?” and “When you go back to America, will you take me with you?” He asked me these questions earnestly, which while they made me laugh, made me also realize just how fascinating someone from the United States must appear to these students. They can hardly imagine a life where they could be wealthy and fortunate enough to not only life in the United States, but to choose to visit and live in a different country. I do not know for sure, but I imagine that most if not all of my students had never left Santiago, let alone Chile. Their whole world is their neighborhood and their community. For them, North American might as well be another planet.

A professional from the American school system may well be shocked and offended by the lack of respect and enthusiasm that these students have for their teachers and for the subject material. It is easy to look upon them and see a class full of delinquents and future occupiers of county jail cells, but as is the case with students who behave the same way in our own country, it is the system that has failed, not the students. The students are teenagers, adolescents and children; it is not up to them to educate themselves. I doubt that many of the students at this school have parents who have completed a high school education, let alone a college degree. They come from poor homes where getting a job and putting food on the table is much more important than a diploma. The teachers can only do so much. Both women I worked with were wonderful young women with all the motivation and patience in the world, yet their English barely supersedes my Spanish and I would find myself grossly unqualified to teach Spanish in California. The fault does not lie with them, however, the fault lies with the vicious cycle of the educational system in the poorer regions of Chile. The English teachers speak broken English, which they then teach to their students who grow up to be teachers who have no one to practice their English with because so many Chilean adults abandon English as soon as they graduate and so they continue teaching broken English to a classroom full of unwilling and uninterested students.

The students do not lack for curiosity, however, if anything they lack motivation. In the Chilean school system, once you graduate the equivalent of high school it is customary to take a year or so off from school to study for a test. This test, somewhat similar to the SATs, yet not exactly the same, determines which universities you will be allowed to attend. The student takes the test, then their score is reviewed by the Chilean universities and if the score proves satisfactory the student is given a bid to attend the university. If not, the student may take the test again, or may give up and look for a job. Chilean universities do not have the resources that American universities have, and because of this they do not offer many scholarships or grants. This means that generally speaking only the children of wealthier families have the ability to study beyond high school. For the students of Puente Alto, the neighborhood in which Liceo San Gerónimo is located and one of the poorest sectors of Santiago, that even if they spend a year studying for this test, it is still extremely unlikely that they will be able to attend a university because of their lack of disposable income. Again we see a vicious cycle in play and this cycle makes it nearly impossible for the children of poorer communities to ever rise above their situation and escape from poverty.

I say they do not lack for curiosity because everyday I saw the looks in their eyes as I walked in the classroom. I was bombarded every day with questions about my country and my life. I could hear the desire in their voice to free themselves from the cycle of poverty that inundates them and causes despair and lethargy. These students are not unintelligent, as troubled students are often mislabeled. They are clever; I know this because I heard them cracking witty jokes and making each other laugh. They are kind; I know this because I watched them behave in the classroom with more of the dynamics of a family than of classmates. They are resilient; I know this because despite their living situation, despite the fact that they have all the cards stacked against them, they show up for class everyday and even though it takes some cajoling at times they do their work and they learn as best they know how.

I am eternally grateful to the students and teachers of Liceo San Gerónimo for this life-changing opportunity. It has been my ambition to be a high school teacher for a few years now and I have never been more sure that that is the only career for me. I have always had the privilege of receiving an incredible education. I was in private school for most of my elementary and junior high career, and then although I attended public school for high school I was privy to the honors and AP classes full of intelligent, eager students and tremendous teachers. These are the easiest environments to teach in, but that is certainly not where I belong as an instructor. The children who attend schools of that quality are already a step ahead in their life. They were born on second base, while many students in areas like Puente Alto were born without a bat or a glove. I have confidence in my abilities as a teacher and frankly every student deserves a teacher who cares deeply about their students. I know that my experiences with students here in Chile have both prepared and inspired me to work with students in similar situations in my own country. I am hopeful to be come an ESL teacher in the bay area after receiving my teaching credential. Although I may never teach in Chile again (who knows??) I will never forget the phenomenal experience I had here with Ingles Abre Puertas, and I will never stop being thankful for everything this program has given me.

Mundial Classification Game: Chile vs. España

Well, we lost, but you would never know it from the way all of Chile was acting after the game. The most important thing was that we qualified to enter the next round. I think pictures and videos can express the madness and excitement of this day better than words can, so I'll let them do the talking.

Plaza Italia in the city center after the game.

The aftermath, those clouds are tear gas.

(Re)Discovering Santiago

With just one month left in my Chilean adventure I thought it would be a good idea to make sure I leave Santiago knowing everything I can about it. I've decided to bring my camera with me everywhere I go over the next four weeks and do a little exploring. The city may be shrouded in smog most days, but there is some real beauty to be found, especially in the far corners like the district known as La Reina (the queen) where the Andes are always fully visible and these days are covered in a breathtaking blanket of fresh snow.

One of my favorite things about Santiago, and Chile in general, is that if you walk around long enough you will always find a feria, otherwise known as a farmer's market. They are alwasy full to brimming with the freshest and cheapest ingredients you can find. Spend $10 and buy yourself the ingredients to a fabulous meal.
They have heaps of nuts and spices and all kinds of goodies!
And fish so fresh it will flop right off your plate! Watching the guy clean the fish was just about the coolest thing ever. He could gut a fish in his sleep.
Here's a little peek of my neighborhood. This is my metro station at night.
More to come!

Mendoza, Argentina

This past weekend I went to Mendoza, Argentina. A group called "Miercoles Po," which receives money from the Chilean government to basically show foreigners a good time in Chile, sponsored a trip where the transportation and lodging were completely free and all we had to pay for was our activities and food. Of course my friends and I couldn't let this opportunity pass us, especially since I hadn't traveled for a few weeks. We left Thursday night at 1AM (two hours later than scheduled, which is super typical in Chile) and drove for about five hours to the border. We were ushered on and off the bus three separate time in the space of another five hours before we were finally allowed to be processed and pass through the border. I had no idea at the time but it turns out our bus driver hadn't paid his child support in twenty years and had a felony charge against him so we had to wait for a new bus driver to come along before we could pass. Good for the mother and children, bad for us. Finally we made it through and another three hours later we were in Mendoza, totaling about 12 hours traveling. We made it to the hostel and were absolutely famished. At dinner a friend and I shared a "parilla" which is a very standard South American dish. As you can see below, it's basically a big pile of meat. Argentina is known for its meat and I've experienced it on a couple occasions now. This variety included blood sausage, chicken and several other unidentifiable chunks of meat. It was fantastic. That night we all got together on the roof and talk and hang out before going out. I always enjoy the times when I get to/have to speak Spanish for a long time. I met some great girls from Brazil who complimented my accent. Afterward we all went out to a nightclub and then came back to sleep before our day of wine tasting.

I found out later that my friends and I were the only ones who managed to make it out of bed the next day to do wine tasting. We took a cab to the outskirts of Mendoza to a bike tour company. We rented bikes and they gave us a quick overview of the wineries, chocolaterias and cervecerias in the area, gave us a map and sent us on our way. Our first stop was a chocolateria that also specialized in liqueurs, dulce de leche and olives. The tasting was great. I had a kalamata olive (amazing), dulce de leche with coconut (incredible), tapenade with roquefort cheese (insane) and banana dulce de leche liqueur with white chocolate chips, pictured below (not great.)
The next stop was a wine museum with a free tasting at the end. This might have been interesting for other people but growing up in the wine country I have been on probably 1,458 wine tours since the age of nine so I'd heard most of what I was hearing before. I did manage to get a picture by the vineyard. The vineyard looks different than those in Napa because the vines are grown horizontally in the Italian style. I guess I did learn something!
This is the group at the end of the wine tour enjoying our free glass of wine!
Onward to the next location!
For lunch our bike tour people recommended a beer garden. Apparently there was a deli along the route as well but they said it was very expensive so as always we opted for the cheaper choice. The map made it seem as though the beer garden was just a couple of blocks away. Forty-five minutes later on the bikes we made it sweating, panting and excited to sit down to some lunch and a nice tall glass of beer. The beer was artesanal and delicious and we had empanadas and tapas to accompany it. This was my favorite part of the day. We lingered for over two hours enjoying good food, good beer and good conversation. It was a great way to spend the better part of the day. Our last stop ended up being another chocolateria that specialized in liquors, spreads and jams too. We tried chocolate mint liqueur, olive tapenade and fig jam. Absolutely delicious. We turned our bikes in at seven and spent a few hours socializing with some Kiwis (New Zealand'ers) and Argentines over a glass of wine. It was a fabulous day, especially after the hell we'd been through the night before.
The next morning everyone collected at 11AM for check-out. We had lunch and then it was back on the bus for what would supposedly be a seven hour trek home. Everyone assured us that it was always faster coming back into Chile than leaving. On the way back into Chile we noticed a great photo op along the Andes complete with a clear blue glacial lake. I have no idea where I was when this picture was taken so I'm calling it South American Limbo.
The trip home was not, in fact, shorter than the one there. This time we were detained in the middle of the Andes in the snow for close to eight hours because the border was understaffed. We waited in dead standstill line after dead standstill line. Everyone on the bus started to get kind of stir-crazy, but in my opinion we handled it quite well. The most frustrating part of it was that we had no way of knowing how long it would take to get to the border. We were all seriously considering waiting until the sun came up (so that it was warm enough to walk outside the bus) and walking to the border, crossing and hitchhiking back to Santiago. No joke. Thankfully this was unnecessary and after fifteen straight hours on the bus (and twenty-four hours without eating) we made it back to Santiago at about 6AM Monday. I thoroughly enjoyed the one full day we had in Mendoza but if the border crossing is like that every time I have to reevaluate my desire to go back.

¡¡¡COLO COLO!!!

¡CHI-CHI-CHI LE-LE-LE! ¡COLO COLO ES CHILE!

That's one of the chants I heard about a thousand times this weekend when I went to my first Chilean soccer game. For the most part Chileans are timid people who can't show up on time for anything to save their lives...except when soccer is involved! Not only were the fans two hours early to the game, they were the rowdiest fans I have ever seen! If you think you've seen crazy fans at US sporting events, you haven't seen anything!

We found out on Saturday that a friend of mine and her roommate had plans to go to the game on Sunday. Her roommate is Chilean, and has been a fan of the team Colo-Colo for his whole life. I should explain Chilean soccer a little. There are three teams that represent Chile: Colo-Colo, U Chile and U Católica, and while two of the teams share names with universities they are not affiliated with them. U Católica is the team for the "cuicos" (the rich people) and they have the nicest stadium. U Chile is for the middle class, and they have the second nicest stadium. Colo-Colo is the team of the people, and they have the most fun stadium! They also consistently have the best record of the three.

As soon as we heard about the game between Colo-Colo and U Chile, the biggest game of the year, we knew we had to go so we went to buy the tickets. Our Chilean friend demanded that we buy the more expensive tickets as it can get downright dangerous to sit in the cheap seats. He wasn't kidding. The cheap seats are surrounded by twenty-feet tall chain link fences topped with barbed wire and surrounded by thirty police officers in full riot gear. During the game fights erupted everywhere, but luckily we were in the good seats. We also drove in his car as he assured us it would not be safe for us to take the metro and walk into the stadium. This sentiment was echoed by every single Chilean we told about the game. We would say "Vamos a Colo-Colo mañana!" and they're first response would always be "Tengan cuidado, gringas."

The game itself was incredibly exciting. The amount of skill and control the players had was incredible. I've never seen a live professional soccer game before and now I have the feeling that I'll never be able to get enough. It was fast, and brutal and totally awesome! The crowd, which included everyone from little kids to senior citizens, roared with "CONCHA TU MADRE!" (a very offensive Chilean expletive) every time the ref made a call, or someone missed a goal, or really any time anything happened at all. All the time the most dedicated fans were cheering and singing songs that everyone in the audience knew but us. They flipped off the other team constantly. It was so much fun.

In the end, our team won! The stadium went nuts and we got the heck out of there before it could get too insane. This was one of my absolute favorite experiences here so far. Anyone who has a chance to watch a live soccer game in Latin America should take it, it's beyond anything you will ever experience in the states. Sadly I have no pictures of the event, because I wasn't sure it would be wise to bring my camera, but the seats we sat in were perfectly safe so I'll definitely get some pictures of the madness next time. ¡VIVA CHILE!