The Leaving Part

     It was really crazy for me to actually stop and think about what I was doing, standing there in front of the airport in San Francisco. I had everything I would need for every aspect of my life crammed into three duffel bags and a small backpack. Even worse, one of the larger duffel bags was mainly filled with gear for backpacking and not actually things I would want to use on a daily basis. I already regret not using that space for more shorts and tank tops because its hotter than hell down here and I feel like melting from the second I wake up. Anyway. There I stood, smiling, just like any tourist about to leave the country; except, I was about to leave with no expectation of returning for seven months. Its an odd feeling to have in knowing that you won't see home for seven months. A feeling that I really didn't understand and still don't even now in Santiago. Nonetheless, at every turn in my travels from San Francisco to Dallas and then to Santiago, I would say "I can still turn back." I said this to myself up until I got on the plane from Dallas to Santiago. At that point, there really was no turning back. Either way, I didn't want to. 

     After 24 hours of travel, I finally arrived in Santiago de Chile. Our ever bubbly and always enthusiastic program director picked me and Sophie up from the airport and began to describe for us just what we had signed up for. Obviously, she said, we had left our English on the plane and would now speak only Spanish for the next seven months. Obviously, I hadn't, but I was willing to pretend. As I sat in the back of this van, sweating myself into a raisin of a human being, I realized the climate and I would not get along regardless of the language.
     I was finally dropped off at my host family's very nice little house in a leafy and quiet neighborhood of Santiago. Soon after unpacking my things into the closets and drawers (which unbeknownst to me could and likely do contain a spider called La Araña de Rincon that an kill humans in 8 hours), I was summoned to lunch. After feasting on a pork chop, green beans, salad, tomatos, rice and sauteed mushrooms, I decided that if I didn't leave Chile fluent in Spanish, I would certainly leave obese.
     When in Chile, Eat and Speak like the Chileans do.