I’m sitting in the kitchen watching the last episode of the telenovela, “¿Dónde Está Elisa?” It’s been on TV four nights a week since September, and tonight is the grand finale. The aunt of Elisa was just arrested after a shootout in a barn where she was holding her own daughter hostage after murdering her husband and setting it up as a suicide….oh, goodness, Chilean television. The new telenovela started last night, and continues tonight. It’s called “Count Vrolok,” and is set a couple hundred years back in time. It has most of the same actors as “Elisa.” I’m psyched.
I’ve been busier than usual since my last post. I had my first exam last week, went to Linares to do some rural tourism, had a dance class, read a lot about rural development, picked out a class for J-term at Middlebury, made a powerpoint presentation, played with a puppy, ate my first strawberries of the season, and bought a hula hoop. It doesn’t sound like I’ve actually done that much, but there I go, basing my life’s value on “productiveness” in the school sense of the term…
When Julie and I went to Linares, it was kind of a funny day. We went knowing basically nothing about the area except the name of a farm that offered agrotourism (tourism on a farm). We took our 8 AM bus bright and early out of Conce and slept on the 3-hr-plus ride to Linares. Upon arrival, we asked a lot of questions. How do we get to the center of the city? Where can we find tourist information? How do we get to the little town where this farm is? Why is there a parade happening?? There was this parade in the central plaza, with a bunch of uniformed school kids marching down the street, followed by adults (their teachers?). A whole group of huasos (like cowboys, but Chilean = men on horseback wearing ponchos) was in waiting to join the action, and a crowd had gathered on both sides of the street to applaud the procession. Unfortunately, we didn’t ask what was going on. We were getting tired of questions.
After stopping in a number of little shops to ask for directions to the bus terminal, we found a bus that could take us to Yerbas Buenas, the little town where our farm was located. The bus ride was smooth, and the farm’s online directions were great—we arrived easily. But we were the only people there. There were the people running the place—a waiter, a hostess, a woman in a house—but although it was a beautiful, breezy, sunny Saturday, we were the only lunch guests. We took our seats and enjoyed a really good meal—lomo a lo pobre. Lomo is like a type of steak. “A lo pobre” means “served with fried eggs and French fries.” Healthy, right? Before we left, a couple of other small groups arrived, which made our presence less awkward. That was nice.
We took off, stomachs full, ready to head back to Linares and possibly explore another town in the area. We got on a bus marked “Linares” in the place where we had been dropped off earlier. All was good. Except the bus went the other way out of town. I still thought it was good, because I assumed the driver would make a quick turnaround and head back. Not quite. We passed through two more little villages before asking him what was up (I was enjoying the ride, so felt reluctant to ask, even though I kind of knew we weren’t going where we needed to go). We were informed that the bus would be stopping at the end of the route, and heading back at 4 PM. The bus stopped at 3:25. We waited, chatted with the driver, and napped until departure. Luckily, Linares is much closer to the Andes than Conce, and we were in a rural, natural area. So I took pictures, like these ones:
I’ve been busier than usual since my last post. I had my first exam last week, went to Linares to do some rural tourism, had a dance class, read a lot about rural development, picked out a class for J-term at Middlebury, made a powerpoint presentation, played with a puppy, ate my first strawberries of the season, and bought a hula hoop. It doesn’t sound like I’ve actually done that much, but there I go, basing my life’s value on “productiveness” in the school sense of the term…
When Julie and I went to Linares, it was kind of a funny day. We went knowing basically nothing about the area except the name of a farm that offered agrotourism (tourism on a farm). We took our 8 AM bus bright and early out of Conce and slept on the 3-hr-plus ride to Linares. Upon arrival, we asked a lot of questions. How do we get to the center of the city? Where can we find tourist information? How do we get to the little town where this farm is? Why is there a parade happening?? There was this parade in the central plaza, with a bunch of uniformed school kids marching down the street, followed by adults (their teachers?). A whole group of huasos (like cowboys, but Chilean = men on horseback wearing ponchos) was in waiting to join the action, and a crowd had gathered on both sides of the street to applaud the procession. Unfortunately, we didn’t ask what was going on. We were getting tired of questions.
After stopping in a number of little shops to ask for directions to the bus terminal, we found a bus that could take us to Yerbas Buenas, the little town where our farm was located. The bus ride was smooth, and the farm’s online directions were great—we arrived easily. But we were the only people there. There were the people running the place—a waiter, a hostess, a woman in a house—but although it was a beautiful, breezy, sunny Saturday, we were the only lunch guests. We took our seats and enjoyed a really good meal—lomo a lo pobre. Lomo is like a type of steak. “A lo pobre” means “served with fried eggs and French fries.” Healthy, right? Before we left, a couple of other small groups arrived, which made our presence less awkward. That was nice.
We took off, stomachs full, ready to head back to Linares and possibly explore another town in the area. We got on a bus marked “Linares” in the place where we had been dropped off earlier. All was good. Except the bus went the other way out of town. I still thought it was good, because I assumed the driver would make a quick turnaround and head back. Not quite. We passed through two more little villages before asking him what was up (I was enjoying the ride, so felt reluctant to ask, even though I kind of knew we weren’t going where we needed to go). We were informed that the bus would be stopping at the end of the route, and heading back at 4 PM. The bus stopped at 3:25. We waited, chatted with the driver, and napped until departure. Luckily, Linares is much closer to the Andes than Conce, and we were in a rural, natural area. So I took pictures, like these ones:
In total, we were on that bus for long over an hour. A good learning experience, I guess. The excursion to Linares was a fun one. Unstructured and full of detours…
The telenovela episode just ended. The aunt was convicted and sent to prison for life, and they ended with a shot of a squad of police cars on the highway and the word “FIN” (end). Irina and Raisa (my 11- and 20-year-old Chilean “sisters”) are exclaiming, “Fome, fome, fome!” “Qué final tan fome!” “Pero fome!” “Fome” is one of my favorite Chilean words. It’s like a combination of “boring” and “lame.” For example, having a test can be “fome”, watching the grass grow can be “fome”, having swim class on a cold, rainy day at camp is definitely “fome.” Chileans use a lot of slang/ terms that are specific to Chile, which made my initial adjustment here a bit more difficult, and could definitely affect my communication with other Spanish-speakers in the future. I’ll start talking fast, cutting off final consonants, and using words like “fome”, as any good Chilean would, and the other person will wonder what I’m saying.
Here’s to seven and a half more weeks in Chile!
Hope you all are well, wherever you are,
Besos y abrazos,
The telenovela episode just ended. The aunt was convicted and sent to prison for life, and they ended with a shot of a squad of police cars on the highway and the word “FIN” (end). Irina and Raisa (my 11- and 20-year-old Chilean “sisters”) are exclaiming, “Fome, fome, fome!” “Qué final tan fome!” “Pero fome!” “Fome” is one of my favorite Chilean words. It’s like a combination of “boring” and “lame.” For example, having a test can be “fome”, watching the grass grow can be “fome”, having swim class on a cold, rainy day at camp is definitely “fome.” Chileans use a lot of slang/ terms that are specific to Chile, which made my initial adjustment here a bit more difficult, and could definitely affect my communication with other Spanish-speakers in the future. I’ll start talking fast, cutting off final consonants, and using words like “fome”, as any good Chilean would, and the other person will wonder what I’m saying.
Here’s to seven and a half more weeks in Chile!
Hope you all are well, wherever you are,
Besos y abrazos,
Tiernan
P.S. I just finished trying to translate a pop song's lyrics for Irina. I love speaking English sometimes.
P.S. I just finished trying to translate a pop song's lyrics for Irina. I love speaking English sometimes.
what are you taking for jterm? and when are you headed back to the states? and are you going to urbana? and i'll see you soon!!!
ReplyDeleteI love the description of the telenovela. Very Chilean. I know american soaps are overly dramatic too, but chileans just do melodrama so much better!
ReplyDeleteAnd I like fome too. Though bakan might be better.
I miss you and hope you're doing well!