Hello from South America! My name is Allison, I'm currently studying abroad in Valparaíso, Chile!
Someone asked me the other day if I had experienced "culture shock" during my time in Chile. I smiled, thought for a moment, and although briefly, yes, I had experienced it.
I set out for the airport with my parents at 5:00 PM on Sunday, February 23rd. The next morning, I was landing in Santiago, Chile. Everything from that moment, seemed to happen at a blazing pace.
Before I could even realize what was happening or take in my surrounds, I was headed through their airport security (very different from ours), nervously clutching my passport and visa paperwork, amidst a ton of other passengers, in an airport with no air conditioning. We were ushered through customs where I debated on whether or not to claim my apple and beef jerky from the plane. Afterwards, we quickly walked down to the entrance that looked oddly like a red carpet. Taxi drivers, shuttle services, and hopeful families hung over a railing with signs displaying the names of the passengers they were waiting for. In the midst of them, was our housing coordinator, Sergio, and a small sign labeled PUCV. He quickly scooped us all up and lead us out to a van driven by a man named Felipe, and off to Valparaíso we went.
One hour later, we were marveling at the beautiful hills of Valpo, mystified that roads could be so steep and curvy, amazed at the street art and colorful houses, watching the ocean glisten in the sun. In tourist fashion, we all snapped photos as we zoomed by, looking and pointing out the windows. Then, we stopped. "Ciao, chicas, nos vemos" Sergio waved as he exited the van, looking back at the horror on our faces. "See you tomorrow" he added with a smile. All of the students in our van weren't actually staying in Valparaíso, we were living in Viña del Mar (a total score for us). It was easier to drop off Sergio first and let Felipe take us to our homes. "Okay, okay, primero, Elson" Felipe started, typing an address into his phone, "Leugo, Allison." My inner self screamed "THAT'S MY NAME!" After a 15 point turn to get out of Sergio's very narrow driveway and short trip down the road and I was home in Chorrillos.
A slender, gorgeously complected woman came out of the gate to welcome me. I knew from my study abroad paperwork that her name was Paula. "Look, it's your mama" Felipe laughed in heavily accented English. She kissed me on the cheek, grabbed one of my bags and ushered me into the gate past a very large, barking dog. "No Negra, no!" She shouted, trying to keep the dog from jumping on me (Negra and I quickly became dear friends).
A short while later, I was sitting at their table, trying to talk to the mother-in-law of Paula with little success. And that's when everything hit me. I was in a different country, no one in Paula's house speaks English, this is day one of what I told the Chilean government would be a 137 day stay. What had I done?! What was I thinking?! Then Paula asked me if I had ever heard of a Pisco Sour. After that, everything seemed okay. :) And sitting here, writing this blog, listening to Paula chat away downstairs, feeling the breeze of the changing seasons through my window -- everything's more than okay, everything's wonderful.
Nos vemos, el estados unidos.
Someone asked me the other day if I had experienced "culture shock" during my time in Chile. I smiled, thought for a moment, and although briefly, yes, I had experienced it.
I set out for the airport with my parents at 5:00 PM on Sunday, February 23rd. The next morning, I was landing in Santiago, Chile. Everything from that moment, seemed to happen at a blazing pace.
Before I could even realize what was happening or take in my surrounds, I was headed through their airport security (very different from ours), nervously clutching my passport and visa paperwork, amidst a ton of other passengers, in an airport with no air conditioning. We were ushered through customs where I debated on whether or not to claim my apple and beef jerky from the plane. Afterwards, we quickly walked down to the entrance that looked oddly like a red carpet. Taxi drivers, shuttle services, and hopeful families hung over a railing with signs displaying the names of the passengers they were waiting for. In the midst of them, was our housing coordinator, Sergio, and a small sign labeled PUCV. He quickly scooped us all up and lead us out to a van driven by a man named Felipe, and off to Valparaíso we went.
One hour later, we were marveling at the beautiful hills of Valpo, mystified that roads could be so steep and curvy, amazed at the street art and colorful houses, watching the ocean glisten in the sun. In tourist fashion, we all snapped photos as we zoomed by, looking and pointing out the windows. Then, we stopped. "Ciao, chicas, nos vemos" Sergio waved as he exited the van, looking back at the horror on our faces. "See you tomorrow" he added with a smile. All of the students in our van weren't actually staying in Valparaíso, we were living in Viña del Mar (a total score for us). It was easier to drop off Sergio first and let Felipe take us to our homes. "Okay, okay, primero, Elson" Felipe started, typing an address into his phone, "Leugo, Allison." My inner self screamed "THAT'S MY NAME!" After a 15 point turn to get out of Sergio's very narrow driveway and short trip down the road and I was home in Chorrillos.
A slender, gorgeously complected woman came out of the gate to welcome me. I knew from my study abroad paperwork that her name was Paula. "Look, it's your mama" Felipe laughed in heavily accented English. She kissed me on the cheek, grabbed one of my bags and ushered me into the gate past a very large, barking dog. "No Negra, no!" She shouted, trying to keep the dog from jumping on me (Negra and I quickly became dear friends).
A short while later, I was sitting at their table, trying to talk to the mother-in-law of Paula with little success. And that's when everything hit me. I was in a different country, no one in Paula's house speaks English, this is day one of what I told the Chilean government would be a 137 day stay. What had I done?! What was I thinking?! Then Paula asked me if I had ever heard of a Pisco Sour. After that, everything seemed okay. :) And sitting here, writing this blog, listening to Paula chat away downstairs, feeling the breeze of the changing seasons through my window -- everything's more than okay, everything's wonderful.
Nos vemos, el estados unidos.