Today started like any other day. Wake up, go to internship. However, when I walk in the office, every other employee and my fellow intern is sitting with the lights off in a circle in the reception area, as if waiting for me to begin an intervention. “Oh no,” I thought. “They found out about how obsessively I check the value of the dollar compared to the Chilean peso. This could get awkward.” 

“Te hemos esperado!” Felipe tells me. They’ve been waiting for me. Then they all burst out singing Happy Birthday.

SO CONFUSED. 

Feeling sympathetic for the bewildered gringa, they start laughing and tell me that the Internet is down, so they can’t work. Apparently that also calls for a pow-wow in the waiting area… 

45 minutes later, Internet is still out, they let us leave. Great success! An extra 6 hours to catch up on the readings I haven’t done all semester! …Okay we all know that didn’t happen. Maybe 3 hours. … Okay I read 15 pages.

Fast forward to the afternoon, and I am walking from Plaza de Armas to the main street in the center of the city. The first thing out of the ordinary was that the man in front of me stopped dead in his tracks and put his hands to his eyes. “Really, sir? You have to do that in public? Man up and cry in your own personal space.”

Then all of a sudden my nose started stinging like a team of bees had just taken up camp in there. Strange. And why does it feel like I am starting to get strep? Then I notice one person walking briskly past me with an ocean pouring out of their eyes. Then another. Then 10. People walking towards me with shirts, scarves and sweaters covering their nose and mouth. I am dumbfounded until I remember reading a tweet from a friend about getting a whiff of tear gas earlier… and then something someone mentioned about another infamous student protest happening today… and slowly I put two and two together. Protest. Cops. Tear Gas. It’s their favorite weapon. If I continue straight, I walk right into the main campus of the protesters. There is a war raging ahead of me and I am walking straight into it. 

Now this would have been much more obvious if I also started weeping like the juices of 1,000 onions had just been poured in my eyes. But thanks to the 75 degree weather, I was wearing sunglasses. Bless you, aviators, bless you.

So first the sensible side of me kicks in. Turn around! So I do. Then the fun side of me takes control, I bang my next two rights and BACK INTO THE FACE OF DANGER I GO! Turns out this street has a lot less tear gas particles than the one I was previous on. …Less fun. I hit the main strip, and Carabinero vans are everywhere. They are out on full force, dressed in their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Uniforms that make them look like the insects capturing footage for Katniss’s testimonies to the rebels (HUNGER GAMES HIGH FIVE). For now, all is safe.

But then as I’m descending the dark depths into the metro IT’S BACK and my adrenaline levels rise once again, reading to go into action. Okay not so much, but I did whip out my SARS mask (aka sweater) again. I am surrounded by sneezing comrades. Here we are, standing in the face of adversity, when Superman (also known as the Red Line, a los Dominicos) comes and swoops us away.

HUZZAH, I HAVE SURVIVED. And THAT is why they call me Kelly DANGER Loria… At least I’m pretty sure that’s what Erin means. In Gaelic. Or something. 

Buenos Aires!

We just had a week off for Independence Day celebrations, and four friends and I went to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The city is beautiful— I can see what they mean when they (whoever ‘they’ are) say that it is the Paris of South America. The Italian and French influences really shine through in the architecture and general set up of the city. We got a week of beautiful weather, which along with the city’s ample green space and gardens, made for a picture perfect week. 

My personal favorite sight was the Recoleta Cemetery, which is a literal ghost town. It’s a plot of roads, essentially, but instead of houses there are mausoleums of past wealthy Argentines. Some have two stories, some are elaborately decorated, some you can see into, some are sealed shut. It’s a bit eerie, not helped by the fact that stray cats roam the streets, but very beautiful and very interesting. The remains of former First Lady Eva Peron (Evita) are also there, in her family’s mausoleum.

Cecilia, my host mom, has three grown sons. Two, Eugenio and Matias, are married with children, and the third, Tomás, is working towards his final year of med school. Tomás stops over now and then to reconfigurethe computer (read: confuse the hell out of Cecilia) or have a quick meal. Eugenio lives in Santiago as well, and has two of the sweetest daughters on earth. His son is in his pre-teen years and thus it isn’t really cool to hang out at grandma’s, but I think with enough time I can crack him. Matias lives in Peru for work, and just had his fourth child. He visits often considering the fact that he lives in another country, mostly for work meetings, or for purposes of ensuring Chilean citizenship for the new baby. I’m pretty sure he hold the World Record for shortest international voyage, having once arrived at 4am, and had left the same day by 5pm.

All three of them are so kind, easy to talk to, and interested in hearing all about my Chilean experience. I honestly look forward to each one of their visits, but there is just something about Matias. Whenever Cecilia tells me, “Matias is coming this week,” I have to give a calm, composed nod of acknowledgement on the outside, but on the inside I am bursting with excitement. He usually arrives late at night, so when I wake up and hear him talking to Cecilia, I’m as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. Except, instead of Santa Claus, my first thoughts are “Matias came in the night!”

I don’t really know what it is about him. Maybe how he converts back into his teenage self when he comes home, sneaking food from the kitchen until Cecilia has to swat his hand away from the pasta sauce, saying there will be none left for dinner. Or how when he tells a story, he pauses after each sentence as if to say “why do i have to deal with such ridiculous things in my life?” It could be the sort of sad-puppy-dog air he has about him, that he was sent to Peru to work and wants to come back to Chile so badly but they keep postponing his return date, and work stresses him out so much that he has relapsed back into smoking. And sits outside smoking and playing games on his blackberry. Then wakes up and smokes some more, sitting outside in his flannel pajama pants, looking just like a rebel 17-year old.

There’s something about having a big brother. The protection they give, threatening to punch out anybody who treats you wrong, the inherent posse of hot friends that come with the job title, the advice. And despite the fact that Matias may be 25 years older than me, I have a feeling that if we had grown up in the same house at the same time, he would have provided all that. It’s silly, really, the adoration I have for him. How he drinks half the bottle of wine set for dinner before the guests even arrive. How he states that “indigenous cultures do not interest me. I would rather go to Disneyworld.” … you live inPeru, Mati, you practically hang out among the Incas on the daily. 

Whatever it may be, I think he’s great and I’m so happy to have him as part of my Chilean family. And if I ever have issues with a pololo, I know who to call.

Call a doctor! Just… not a Chilean one.

Now that we have been here two months, there has been plenty of time for each and every one of us to get sick. And I would say just about all of us have. We’ve been plagues with everything from a common cold, to strep, to stomach bugs, to UTIs. And through it all, we have heard some great explanations as to why we are sick, mostly coming from out overly-concerned, totally lovable host mothers. The Chileans sure do have a wild imagination…

• Why I have had three bouts of a cold in 8 weeks: There are too many blankets on your bed. You get hot at night and that makes you sick in the morning. And you went to bed with wet hair.

…. then how have I not been sick for EVERY SUMMER OF MY LIFE?

• Why Blaire got a bacterial infection of the throat: You went for a run and didn’t take a shower immediately after. 

… i’ve heard taking a cold shower after you run can cause a heart attack. what would you say then, hmmm??

• Why Steven has mono: You drink too much water.

… well that just….. i’m just… so confused. no sense. just.. what? I think it’s from making out with too many strangers. But hey, that’s just hearsay. I should trust your credited medical opinion, instead.

Within the past 2 weeks or so, I have been blessed with the love of my family and friends and have received three care packages. The first one I was expecting, and had been waiting anxiously for. My family sent me a birthday package including cards from my aunt, my sister and my cousin, and my parents. It really hit me how much I miss them all, and a few tears may or may not have been conjured up. May… or may not.

Then, yesterday, I was surprised in the morning my a package from one of my best friends at school, Ashley, who is now also abroad in Brussels, Belgium. She sent me a few tokens for my birthday (the birthday that keeps on giving), like my favorite magazine from home, and a bag of Dove chocolates. (Funny story, this is the second time i have been given Dove chocolates to keep in my room in Chile, because I always had them in my room in the US. Another friend sent me two bags right before I left the US, in hopes that it would make Chile feel more like home. I guess those chocolates constantly on my desk have left an impression) She sent me two beautifully hilarious and true cards that depicted our friendship perfectly, and again, the waterworks.

And now, TODAY, Cecilia just came in my room bearing a large box, addressed to me, in Santiago, “Chili.” You know, some people… A few weeks ago I received a Skype phone call from my 8-year old cousin, and eventually ended up talking to my aunt about all the things I missed from home. Well, now I am the proud beholder of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Chai Tea, and Ghiradelli Chocolate Chip cookie mix. THIS WOMAN IS A GIFT FROM THE GODS. 

So now I sit hear sipping my chai tea latte and I could not be happier and more thankful for all the love I’ve been sent from the States. I am so lucky to have friends and family that are willing to put up the plata, as they say, to send something so far away, and um… if anyone wants my address, let me know.

…i slept through it. It hit at about 4am and apparently it was about a 5.6 on the Richter Scale, but I slept like a baby and only found out about it through a text in the morning. My host mom was up because her son had just gotten in from a late flight, and she said the roof shook and rattled. A lot of other people I talked to said they woke up and felt it, but I obviously could sleep through a war. Today my boss told me that 10-20 “earthquakes,” (more like tremors) hit Chile every day, but the majority of them don’t measure above a 3 on the Richter scale, which means they aren’t felt. I feel like it’s an experience I have to have though, so…

SEISMIC ACTIVITY, GET AT ME.

Going for the Gut:

On cigarette boxes, they get straight to the point. “Tobacco reduces your physical and sexual performance,” the front says, with an all telling photo. The back reads “Tobacco leaves you impotent. For you and your partner, quit smoking.”

Ain’t nothin like the honest truth.

My bed during the planning of our Buenos Aires trip. Yes, Blaire and I like to be thorough. Ignore the Chile books. That was just background research.