Asi es la vida Chilena

Calama

"Think of what you're trying to accomplish. Just think of what you're dealing with. The majesty and grandeur of the English language is the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts that ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative, and musical mixtures of sounds. And that's what you've set yourself out to conquer...and conquer it, you will!"
--Henry Higgins

Returning from Talta, via Antofagasta, I was struck ill. The change of climates from humid to dry, from hot to cold in a single afternoon, from interesting to utterly boring all took their inevitable toll on my immune system and I came down with a sinus infection that laid me out for almost a week. I am still producing an inordinate amount of mucus, but I'm near desert-stasis levels.

I went in the Monday after our Gringo reunion to my Liceo and it was clear fairly quickly that I would not be able to teach effectively, especially not the rather complex lesson on passive voice that I had prepared. Thus I managed to wrangle up some computer speakers which I hooked to my laptop and blasted the audio (the kids unfortunately couldn't see the screen) to the scene in My Fair Lady where Eliza finally makes a breakthrough and her, Henry, and Colonel Pickering all begin singing "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain." All I wanted the kids to do was pick out first the name of the girl singing (Eliza) and, second, the words of the song. This proved a much more difficult task then I had anticipated, but it was worth it to hear one or two kids leave class singing the chorus in a falsetto like Audrey. When I switched groups, one kid had clearly talked to someone in the first group who had handed him the answers written down. Thus he confidently raised his hand when I asked what the girl's name was and proclaimed "Eleeza!" I mocked him mercilessly.

I was sent home before my next class that day, returned and did my full day Tuesday which nearly killed me, and then had the rest of the week off. I nearly went mad with boredom (the monotony frequently punctuated by some hacking or nose blowing) and by Friday I was well enough and determined enough to leave the house. I spent the afternoon shopping in the centro with my Mom where, in one of the markets, I saw an entire pig's head on display for purchase. I told Ximena that I wanted it for my birthday. I'm not sure she got the joke, we'll see come the 27th. That night, Ryan came over and we left the house to go meet up with one of the other volunteers in town, Mary, and her teacher friends from the Catholic school where she teaches. The dog, Mota, followed us out of the house and we were nearly to the centro when we realized she wasn't going to go home. We tried to shake her by hiding in a store, but the dog is so stupid that she almost seems smart and it became clear that we were going to have to walk her all the way back to the house. Thankfully, Carlos drove up in his truck and spotted us. We told him about the dog and we managed to trick her into climbing into the bed (after all three of us had to climb up in it first) and then he tied her in with a bungee cord and took her home for us.

Walking back home that night I was passing through a little park near my house when I innocently stumbled into a group of three young men fighting. I stopped, as I had no berth to pass them, and as I stood there one of the men pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed it at the other two. This of course brought the fight to a close (thankfully without bloodshed, mine or otherwise) and the three scattered into the wind. Ximena was not at all surprised when I related this story the next morning.

The next night was my prima's (cousin) birthday and the family, along with Ryan, met up at my Aunt's house to eat tacos and torta (cake). I was of course wildly skeptical when the word tacos was first spoken, but this second round of Chilexican proved superior to the first experience. Still not tasting like the real thing, the tacos were simply grilled tortillas filled with chunks of meat, avocado, corn, and tomatoes. My mom stateside (the real one) had sent a few packets of Taco Bell sauce in a care package and I brought them along, which was a big hit. Ryan and I were also flabbergasted to be handed a jar of Great Value (the Wal-Mart brand) crunchy peanut butter that my Aunt had somehow located. The look of surprised delight on our faces was quite amusing to my family, who all took turns tasting the treat and more or less shrugging it off (except for my Aunt, she loved it). They kept complaining that it had too many calories while all the while slopping gobs of homemade mayonnaise on their "tacos." The following Monday, Ximena surprised me again by showing me that she had found two more jars of peanut butter and bought them for me to eat at home (also Wal-Mart brand, as the department store here, Lider, is of course owned by big blue).
If the appearance of peanut butter in Calama isn't evidence of a loving God, then I don't know what is.