I'm all about this kind of thing: A reflection on how I really am all about this kind of thing

So, day number one: actually, when did we first take off for Chile? Seems like a year ago already, but I guess that a 9 and half hour plane ride, coupled by a gripping day of three very noticeably American girls elegantly sprawling across mounds-o-luggage (security guard in tail) in a pretty sketchy Santiago bus terminal, and topped off with an 11 hour bus trip, can do that to you.

The flight to Santiago was pretty uneventful, considering my capacity for napping. However upon arrival it suddenly hit me, it was winter. And by suddenly hit me, I mean, the Santiago airport was definitely NOT heated. In short, we walked straight into some kind of foreign thermocline type of situation that pretty much screamed "HOLA!! BIENVENIDOS A SANTIAGO! IT'S FREAKING COLD HERE!". yep. A smoldering 30 something degrees, which clearly warranted my commentary of "ohhh boy its cold. wow. its really cold. can you guys see your breath too? NEWSFLASH: we are INSIDE and I can see my breath. mind blown. this is crazy. Raleigh is like 105 right now! I think I'm shivering. Can we stop before we get to immigration? I need to pull out another layer...etc"

Upon successfully navigating customs and immigration, well, more or less, we were immediately greeted by an extremely enthusiastic taxi driver who followed us around for a bit until I finally warded him off with a very firm "no. gracias, pero NO." (I'm not sure Katherine and Erin are yet fully aware of my impeccable people skills, motherly personality, and really just an altogether remarkable sense of patience and understanding...) I then attempted to withdraw some cash from an ATM to which, albeit a bit reluctantly, I accepted help from the policeman who was lying in wait, watching my futile efforts to navigate the machine effectively. Money in hand, we hopped on a bus that took us to the main bus terminal in Santiago, where after much deliberative searching, Katherine and I (Erin was acting as luggage guard extraordinaire at this point) found 3 tickets for the earliest bus...7:30pm. Mind you, it was around 11am at the time. Boy were we thrilled. With the prospect of checking out Santiago shot down by the sheer scope of what we were dealing with (and by this I mean, well over 250 pounds of luggage), we set up camp in a quaint cafeteria type setting and spent the time doing what girls do: talking about how obnoxious boys are, reading People magazine, stuffing our faces with empanadas, and periodically throwing around the occasional Spanish vocab word, whilst cracking up at how laughable all of our Spanish is.

7:30 rolled around and we jumped on our comparably comfortable bus and headed off towards el sur de Chile! A lengthy 5 minutes into the ride, the seat next to me was eagerly occupied by a 7 year old girl who made it very clear that her name was Catalina but I could call her Cata, that it's amazing that I have blonde hair and blue eyes, and that her mom told her that she was not allowed to sit by me but she did it anyways. Sounds like my kind of girl. At the start, Cata was a bit discouraged when she realized that not only was I not a Chilena, but my Spanish skills were purely limited. She returned to the confines of her mothers arms for approximately 5 more minutes until she realized that I had the potential to be very entertaining (I was reading off of this magical computer book device, and all in English at that.). In short, after being treated to some type of local postre and some 3 hours later I had a little Chilean girl calling me Tia Kelly and falling asleep on my lap. So I may not have gotten as much sleep as I wanted, but I had made my first friend in Chile.

Upon arriving in Valdivia, the three of us emerged from the depths of the bus, tousled hair, bleary eyed, and suddenly embraced by a small Chilean woman who assured us in a rather loud, resonating, with a hint of authority (almost the kind of misplaced authority that my Mom sometimes whips out "I don't care if you are 6' 5", grocery store manager, this 5'1" middle aged woman will kick your behind if you don't give me store credit for this 35 cent coupon"...yeah. that kind of authority) voice that she somehow knew Katherine and that she thought we all were beautiful and strong and amazing...and...and...and it was way too early to meet Feliscita. Feliscita is wonderful, even though, as it is widely known, that she has a strong personality. A short cab ride brought the world travelers to Avenida Los Robles, or home base for the next couple of months. Marisol, my host mom, greeted me with open arms into her home, breakfast on the table, and wood burning in the stove. I think I'm gonna like it here.

After breakfast, I showered in an effort to wash the scent of high traffic Santiago bus terminal out of my hair, and then decided that 8am was the perfect time for a 3 hour siesta. Boy, was I right. I awoke around 11am to the energetic Rodolfo, my host dad, and Valentina, my host sister. 16 year old Valentina was soon to inform me that her first day back to school was tomorrow and that she had failed to read the first part of Don Quixote de la Mancha (for those of us who have read this book....or even experienced the cinematic excellence that is the Don Quixote musical en film, know what kind of undertaking this is). Better yet, she informed me that we would be making a quick trip downtown to acquire the book. ty-pi-cal high schooler. Assigned reading? quiz when I get back to school? Don't mind if I...DONT! haha story of my life at least. So we head downtown and I get a flash tour of Valdivia, it's brief history, and even a run through of campus. It's raining in the city and Rodolfo earnestly questions if I have brought the proper rain gear. He assures me that today is a beautiful day (it's raining...and 34 degrees out?) and that the winter time is normally much more intolerable. I nod as if to say "yeah huh...I know that's a joke".

Later, Katherine and Erin and I took a trip to campus to try to hash out our differences with the international student coordinator. Yet to no avail. We were met with news that classes will be starting not today, no. Not tomorrow either, but around the second week of September. And even that's tentative y'all. Which leaves us with a month of exploring the winter wonder land that is Valdivia. "We aren't too far from the beach", I hopefully suggested on the walk home. This was greeted with a reluctant grunt from Katherine and Erin adamantly trying to convince us of the wonderful aspects of winter camping. Pulling at straws? Yes, yes we are.

I ended my day with a family dinner, which happens every night or so I'm told. This in and of itself is very different for me because anyone who has EVER been over to the Cox family for dinner knows how its done:

Step 1: Is it dinner time? There's no food on the counter you say? Open the fridge and/or freezer and find the nearest microwave. Cereal and milk is also a very popular option, our recent reviews say it just might be the best thing in the house!

Step 2: There is food on the counter! YOU are the lucky winner! But now what? Nobody is around...Ah empty the dishwasher to find an plate and load it up with whatever is on the counter.

Step 3: Walk around until you find someone other than the bird to talk to. You realize that everyone is actually dispersed throughout the house! Willis upstairs eating a cheese and mayo sandwich and picking out a new song between bites, Cody posted up in his black out den of a room chowing down while watching a marathon of White Collar, Kelly lying on the playroom floor with the dog trying to see if Brandi will eat the lima beans in the stealthiest manner possible, and mom on the couch with a half gallon of ice cream insisting that if she eats a larger serving it can count as dinner and desert.

That's a really long and convoluted way of me saying: we don't do family dinners. But I do like the concept, so I'm going to give it a fair shot. Plus it forces me to work on my Spanish when I a) have to ask what it is I'm about to bite into or b) when I ask Vale to pass the mustard...or "Vale...que significa mustard in espanol?"

All in all, I'm excited. My host family is impressed with my vocabulary and my speaking skills, which I find to be interesting considering the fact that my Spanish is pretty much like that annoying radio station that doesn't come in quite clear. You know the one I'm talking about, you catch about one word out of every 10 and there is either a bunch of static or awkward silence in between, and maybe you can catch the gist of whats going on but generally you are just like "shoot this is annoying...how do I switch it back to normal". I know they don't think I'm a broken radio, but I'm JUST sayin'.

 In sum, I'm doing alright. Communicating pretty decently (I did effectively tell Marisol today that I am a raging asthmatic so I would appreciate it if she did not have her nightly cigarette in the bathroom and that I'm lactose intolerant...we are moving up in the world) and getting accustomed to my new surroundings, which I can't say is too difficult because I already feel right at home.

Alright, cheers to the longest blog entry on the face of the Earth Kelly. Holy Smokes. I act like I have a lot to say or something...More on the adventures in Chilly Chile later. But for real, I'm all about it :)