Vivo en el desierto mas seco del mundo.
And then there were seven. After leaving Sunday, April 11, I headed North for Region II, Antofagasta with 6 other volunteers teaching in the region. The group includes John, Ryan, Mary, and Hannah – last stop Calama, Matt – last stop, Antofagasta City, and me and Vanessa – last stop, Taltal. Departures from Santiago were arranged according to the respective regions. Each group left at different times between 10pm Sunday night and late the next morning. We Antofagasta volunteers were the first to go thanks to our nine-teen hour bus ride. I said my goodbyes with a bit of unease, and we were sent off by a crowd of waving volunteers who were all patiently waiting to board his or her own bus in the hours to come.
The first bus was actually only a quick transfer from the hostel to a major bus station in Santiago. A Ministry employee rode the first bus with us, gave us our pre-paid tickets, and waited for us to depart on the second bus headed for Antofagasta City.
Buses in Chile are not what most people in the States envision buses in South America to be like. No, there were no chickens on the roof and there were no sleepy Mexicans with oversized hats. And no, we did no spiral through mountains wooshing passed unprotected cliff edges. I believe this is what one experiences in the Wild West of South America, Bolivia. The bus was well prepared for the nine-teen hour journey with a bathroom, TV, 130 degree reclining seats, and three meals. However, this is because we rode Cama, not all buses recline this far, or have as many meals. Cama translates to “bed” in English, but it is the term used to describe first-class on the Chilean buses.
After about 10 hours on the Panamericana, Pan American Highway, the sun had finally crept over the mountains to the East and it was clear we were entering the North of Chile. (The Pan American Highway stretches from Alaska to Patagonia. It is approximately 48,000 kilometers long, linking North, Central, and South America.) We were somewhere in Norte Chico at this point. Norte Chico is a land of transition. Coming from the South you will notice the lush valleys are slowly disappearing, but there are still signs of life and the color green has not yet been erased.
I quickly fell back asleep after a few squinty eyed gazes out into the disappearing signs of life, Benadryl works wonders. I would say it was at about hour 14 when I had finally come to, and all was not some Benadryl ridden dream world of lifeless desert on both sides of the bus, it was reality. We were cruising through the driest desert in the world with still five hours to go. I thought to myself, it looks identical to the landscape two hours ago when I woke up to roll over to my other side; this was the Atacama Desert, el desierto mas seco del mundo.
Some coastal climate stations in the Atacama have never recorded measurable rainfall. Otherwise, the only precipitation comes from the camanchaca, or fog, that condenses at higher elevations in the hills and mountains to the East of the coast. In Taltal the camanchaca can be seen late in the day lingering over the hills immediately to the north of us. The Humboldt Current pushes up from Antarctica and delivers cool ocean temperatures all across the Chilean coast. The cold ocean temperatures mix with the warm air creating this camanchaca. The cool ocean temperatures also help moderate the hot climate of the North.
So by now I am sure you are wondering why this one is called Whiskey & Cholera. We all know first impressions are important, and our first impression of Antofagasta called for a bottle of whiskey. 18 hours into the trip we had finally turned west and headed for Antofagasta City. We drove right into a thick camanchaca and cloud filled sky. There was no sunshine in sight, and the clouds seemed to turn the city a dirty grey. Upon entering the city we descended through the outskirts of the city littered with shacks put together with what looked like the remnants of a construction site. And there seemed to be more stray dogs than people. We were greeted by our regional coordinator Rio, our go-to person for problems within Region II. The Ministry put us up in a waterfront hostel that overlooked the port and its dirty water. None of the gentlemen hit the shower after those 19 long hours, us men decided to hit the bottle instead. John mentioned that if we had yet to find Jesus in our lives, we would probably do so pretty soon…Taltal was still a day away, but it was not looking good.
We had some time to freshen up, relax, and wait for dinner at the hostel. After dinner we would be meeting six other volunteers that had already been in the city for about a month. These volunteers started a year long program in January. We were all hoping they would have some inspirational words on Antofagasta. Instead however, they had stories of a recent cholera outbreak. This turned out to be false, but it certainly did not lift our spirits at the time. It turns out a few cases of something similar to cholera were reported. And then people began conjuring up stories and there was even a pretty good explanation. In Chile, as with most of Central and South America, you cannot dispose of toilet paper in the toilet. The rule is, if there is a bin next to the toilet, use it. Cholera is transmitted through feces. The trash is put out in the streets and then the packs of stray dogs rummage through the trash. Well, you can put the pieces together. One volunteer even added, “And who do you think plays with the dogs?” So at this point I pretty much thought I was going to be teaching children with cholera and living in a cloudy, dirty, desert for eight months. The power of first impressions…
On Tuesday we met our co-teacher who had traveled from his or her respective town (our future host towns). We spent half the day reviewing guidelines, addressing concerns, and getting to know our co- teacher. This also when I found out I would be teaching high-school students, more specifically students at a Liceo Polítecnico. Polítecnico schools cater to students who do not have the money or the desire to attend university. Instead, students learn a special skill and find a job after high school graduation. My co-teacher’s name is Boris. He was decked out in a New York Giants hat when I met him. I am not sure if he wore it on purpose to welcome me, or if it was coincidence, there was a lot lost in translation during that first meeting. Yes, co-teachers are Chilean English teachers, but this does not mean they speak the best English. What I do know is that he has three children, two girls and a boy. The idea of a co-teaching here is for the Chilean teacher to focus on grammar and writing, while I focus on listening and speaking. But I will write more about Polítecnico, co-teaching, and Boris at a later time.
And then there were two. Vanessa (the other Taltal volunteer) and I said our goodbyes and headed for Taltal at around 3pm. The bus ride from Antofagasta to Taltal is about four hours and we arrived around 7pm. I was greeted by my host-father Alejandro and his youngest son Niconorr. My host family includes the father and mother, Alejandro and Marta, and three boys: Sebastian, Ignaccio, and Niconorr. Sebastian is off at University in Antofagasta and I have taken over his room. Alejandro is works in a mine nine hours north of Taltal. He does what is called siete por siete. He has seven days on and seven days off. More to come on my family…
But to try and bring all this together and for the sake of length and your possible concern…Antofagasta is actually always sunny; we arrived on an off day. We also arrived during lunch time when stores close and people eat with their families. And no, I do not have cholera. 19 hours on a bus can skew one’s perception. I actually spent the night in Antofagasta city last week and it was pretty, sunny, and the streets were bustling with people in suits and nice clothing.
And my host town is great. A nearby estadio has turf and the baseball club plays there almost every day. My glove is already in the mail. Thanks mom. My house is a three minute walk from school; I can hear the bell ring from the front door. The ocean breathes a cool breeze up the hills and the sunsets are beautiful. Also, I recently found out the gym teacher at my school surfs and I went out with him last week. The wave is small, about a five minute drive away, and it is sometimes nonexistent, but it is better than nothing. I have also taken up aerobox and attend the class 2-3 times a week to get my sweat on.
So thankfully things have only gotten better since my first impression of Region II. Teaching is certainly not easy, especially when the girls are brainlessly saying ¨Mister I love you¨ and the boys ¨fuk to you¨. Also, the no entiendo and repita has started to bother me, there is a brick wall of language in front of me that I am constantly trying to break through. The Chileans speak fast, very fast.
Up next…some words on my host town, Taltal.
The first bus was actually only a quick transfer from the hostel to a major bus station in Santiago. A Ministry employee rode the first bus with us, gave us our pre-paid tickets, and waited for us to depart on the second bus headed for Antofagasta City.
Buses in Chile are not what most people in the States envision buses in South America to be like. No, there were no chickens on the roof and there were no sleepy Mexicans with oversized hats. And no, we did no spiral through mountains wooshing passed unprotected cliff edges. I believe this is what one experiences in the Wild West of South America, Bolivia. The bus was well prepared for the nine-teen hour journey with a bathroom, TV, 130 degree reclining seats, and three meals. However, this is because we rode Cama, not all buses recline this far, or have as many meals. Cama translates to “bed” in English, but it is the term used to describe first-class on the Chilean buses.
After about 10 hours on the Panamericana, Pan American Highway, the sun had finally crept over the mountains to the East and it was clear we were entering the North of Chile. (The Pan American Highway stretches from Alaska to Patagonia. It is approximately 48,000 kilometers long, linking North, Central, and South America.) We were somewhere in Norte Chico at this point. Norte Chico is a land of transition. Coming from the South you will notice the lush valleys are slowly disappearing, but there are still signs of life and the color green has not yet been erased.
I quickly fell back asleep after a few squinty eyed gazes out into the disappearing signs of life, Benadryl works wonders. I would say it was at about hour 14 when I had finally come to, and all was not some Benadryl ridden dream world of lifeless desert on both sides of the bus, it was reality. We were cruising through the driest desert in the world with still five hours to go. I thought to myself, it looks identical to the landscape two hours ago when I woke up to roll over to my other side; this was the Atacama Desert, el desierto mas seco del mundo.
Some coastal climate stations in the Atacama have never recorded measurable rainfall. Otherwise, the only precipitation comes from the camanchaca, or fog, that condenses at higher elevations in the hills and mountains to the East of the coast. In Taltal the camanchaca can be seen late in the day lingering over the hills immediately to the north of us. The Humboldt Current pushes up from Antarctica and delivers cool ocean temperatures all across the Chilean coast. The cold ocean temperatures mix with the warm air creating this camanchaca. The cool ocean temperatures also help moderate the hot climate of the North.
So by now I am sure you are wondering why this one is called Whiskey & Cholera. We all know first impressions are important, and our first impression of Antofagasta called for a bottle of whiskey. 18 hours into the trip we had finally turned west and headed for Antofagasta City. We drove right into a thick camanchaca and cloud filled sky. There was no sunshine in sight, and the clouds seemed to turn the city a dirty grey. Upon entering the city we descended through the outskirts of the city littered with shacks put together with what looked like the remnants of a construction site. And there seemed to be more stray dogs than people. We were greeted by our regional coordinator Rio, our go-to person for problems within Region II. The Ministry put us up in a waterfront hostel that overlooked the port and its dirty water. None of the gentlemen hit the shower after those 19 long hours, us men decided to hit the bottle instead. John mentioned that if we had yet to find Jesus in our lives, we would probably do so pretty soon…Taltal was still a day away, but it was not looking good.
We had some time to freshen up, relax, and wait for dinner at the hostel. After dinner we would be meeting six other volunteers that had already been in the city for about a month. These volunteers started a year long program in January. We were all hoping they would have some inspirational words on Antofagasta. Instead however, they had stories of a recent cholera outbreak. This turned out to be false, but it certainly did not lift our spirits at the time. It turns out a few cases of something similar to cholera were reported. And then people began conjuring up stories and there was even a pretty good explanation. In Chile, as with most of Central and South America, you cannot dispose of toilet paper in the toilet. The rule is, if there is a bin next to the toilet, use it. Cholera is transmitted through feces. The trash is put out in the streets and then the packs of stray dogs rummage through the trash. Well, you can put the pieces together. One volunteer even added, “And who do you think plays with the dogs?” So at this point I pretty much thought I was going to be teaching children with cholera and living in a cloudy, dirty, desert for eight months. The power of first impressions…
On Tuesday we met our co-teacher who had traveled from his or her respective town (our future host towns). We spent half the day reviewing guidelines, addressing concerns, and getting to know our co- teacher. This also when I found out I would be teaching high-school students, more specifically students at a Liceo Polítecnico. Polítecnico schools cater to students who do not have the money or the desire to attend university. Instead, students learn a special skill and find a job after high school graduation. My co-teacher’s name is Boris. He was decked out in a New York Giants hat when I met him. I am not sure if he wore it on purpose to welcome me, or if it was coincidence, there was a lot lost in translation during that first meeting. Yes, co-teachers are Chilean English teachers, but this does not mean they speak the best English. What I do know is that he has three children, two girls and a boy. The idea of a co-teaching here is for the Chilean teacher to focus on grammar and writing, while I focus on listening and speaking. But I will write more about Polítecnico, co-teaching, and Boris at a later time.
And then there were two. Vanessa (the other Taltal volunteer) and I said our goodbyes and headed for Taltal at around 3pm. The bus ride from Antofagasta to Taltal is about four hours and we arrived around 7pm. I was greeted by my host-father Alejandro and his youngest son Niconorr. My host family includes the father and mother, Alejandro and Marta, and three boys: Sebastian, Ignaccio, and Niconorr. Sebastian is off at University in Antofagasta and I have taken over his room. Alejandro is works in a mine nine hours north of Taltal. He does what is called siete por siete. He has seven days on and seven days off. More to come on my family…
But to try and bring all this together and for the sake of length and your possible concern…Antofagasta is actually always sunny; we arrived on an off day. We also arrived during lunch time when stores close and people eat with their families. And no, I do not have cholera. 19 hours on a bus can skew one’s perception. I actually spent the night in Antofagasta city last week and it was pretty, sunny, and the streets were bustling with people in suits and nice clothing.
And my host town is great. A nearby estadio has turf and the baseball club plays there almost every day. My glove is already in the mail. Thanks mom. My house is a three minute walk from school; I can hear the bell ring from the front door. The ocean breathes a cool breeze up the hills and the sunsets are beautiful. Also, I recently found out the gym teacher at my school surfs and I went out with him last week. The wave is small, about a five minute drive away, and it is sometimes nonexistent, but it is better than nothing. I have also taken up aerobox and attend the class 2-3 times a week to get my sweat on.
So thankfully things have only gotten better since my first impression of Region II. Teaching is certainly not easy, especially when the girls are brainlessly saying ¨Mister I love you¨ and the boys ¨fuk to you¨. Also, the no entiendo and repita has started to bother me, there is a brick wall of language in front of me that I am constantly trying to break through. The Chileans speak fast, very fast.
Up next…some words on my host town, Taltal.
