They Keep Saying Choo Choo

Twin volcanoes!

My first Sunday in Calama was by far the best time I've had yet in the city, and maybe even since I've been in Chile. However, before I get to that story, I need to catch up on some minor anecdotes I have failed to mention.

As is probably the case for all my fellow male gringo volunteers, one of the first questions that is asked by any class is, "Are you single?" If you answer yes, there comes a chorus of "ooooooooooooo"s, followed by giggling and lots of questions about what kind of music you dance to, etc. If you answer no there is a similar chorus of "awwwwwwww"s followed by statements like, "is she in the United States, because you are in Chile now." After class I have been mobbed a few times with high school girls clamoring to tell me their names and saying any word or phrase they can in English, followed inevitably by giggling.

My host mom asked one day is I liked lasagna. I replied, yes, and then asked out of surprise, "Ustedes comen Lasagna en Chile?" She said yes, with meat, with chicken, or with tuna. I made a face and she asked what was wrong, but my Spanish isn't good enough to explain how tuna lasagna is a foreign concept to gringos. On a related note, the fish known as tuna to English speakers is called atun in Chile. Tuna is a name for a small, green cactus fruit that is enjoyed here. I tried one and it was fairly flavorless, but packed with pepas, or seeds. There is another fruit here that they call a pepino (which mean cucumber in the rest of the Spanish speaking world) which tastes exactly like a cantaloupe. I could go on about the fruit here, as there is quite a variety, but I will spare you dear readers for now.

As to Sunday, I woke up in the morning and attended mass (misa) at the barrio's church, which is a few blocks away, with my host-mom. I am not catholic, but I figured some church was better then no church. Also, I think it made my host-mom happy, and it proved to be a delightful cultural experience. The misa was different from most other catholic masses I have attended, with the cantos being lead by a man playing the guitar. The songs were upbeat and actually not unlike many modern worship songs sung in the States...just in Spanish. I only partially understood the actually message portion, but I think it had something to do with the calling of the first Disciples as I kept hearing "pescadors de hombres" (fishers of men.)

After mass, we returned and woke up Mena (Floja! Her mother kept saying. "How lazy!") Karina was already off for the day at confirmation classes. Once Mena was up, we had tecito (tea time, of which we can have several during the day) and then went to what they kept calling the feria. It turns out one of the main streets near the house is converted every Sunday into a sort of farmers market, with nearly a hundred different stalls selling everything from fruit and fish to vegetables and shoes. It was quite a sight, and I promise to gets some photos next time I go. The feria was a sensory overload with smells, sounds, and colors ranging all over the spectrum. Mena and my host-mom bought fresh produce and some fish for lunch, which was later fried up and served with potatoes, rice, and the typical Chilean salad (ensalada de chilena) of diced tomatoes, onions, and celantro. Twas a fine meal indeed, and I was in desperate need of a siesta but the women kept saying something about "choo choo." I more or less ignored the comment as another silly chilenismo and proceeded to pass out on the couch.

My respite was short however and soon Mena woke me up and said it was time to go to Chiu Chiu. I got up and looked out the window to see my host-brother, Carlos, with his wife and five-year-old son Emilo packing into a truck with Ximena (my host-mom). It was then that I realized Chiu Chiu was a place and we were off for a day trip.

Chiu Chiu is an ancient looking puebla that is located near a natural oasis where underground aquifers seep to the surface feeding a large, out of place laguna--or saltwater lake. The surrounding countryside is green-ish marsh where ducks nest and wild llamas roam. The Rio Loa, the reason for Calama's existence if you'll recall, also runs through the little town making it a green and fertile place where carrots are grown in profusion. The area was apparently originally settled by far ranging Incas during the reign of Atahualpa and some famous Inca princess drowned herself and her son in the laguna for some stupid reason, you know how those Incas were.

It was a grand time being out with the new family. Carlos insisted I take pictures of everything. Mena did take pictures of everything. Emilo kept reaching up to me and saying "mano", wanting to hold my hand and jump off of stuff. He is quite the precocious child and he asked me to teach him English, but when he'd mess up he'd get shy and say I looked ugly. After visiting the laguna, we went into the puebla of Chiu Chiu to see the ancient mission there, where I met a priest who spoke English due to having studied at George Washington University in DC. He asked why I was in Calama, because there were so many better places. I told him it wasn't a choice and he shook his head and said it was going to be a long eight months for me. Gee, thanks Padre.

Afterward we sat down in a little food stall where we once again had tecito, this time though Carlos insisted I try all of the horribly unhealthy Chilean snack foods available such as empanadas con queso (fried pockets of cheese), sopaiapillas (just large disks of fried dough, like funnel cake but not sweet) and these little fried carrot cakes. Everything was delicious, but I felt understandably ill afterward.

By then the sun was set and the sky was littered with thousands of stars that each looked like a small moon for they were so bright on the deep blue of the desert sky.