The First Day in Class

I have tried several times to write a subsequent post in this blog, playing with various emotions and descriptions of things which I couldn’t possibly understand before actually doing it.  I failed to finish any of these attempts (Pop-Pop would be disappointed in me for this).  I think, now, that I failed because I had not just flown 6,000 miles to the other side of the world, 6,000 miles away from everyone I know, by myself, with nothing but what I could fit in a few suitcases.  This I have now done, and I am ready to finish a blog post.  It distracts me from the alienation.  As you may have guessed, I made it to Santiago.

First thing is first.  I have heard that goodbyes are tough, but I had no idea just how tough saying goodbye would be.  It was a physical, deeply painful wound that is still tender and will take a very long time to heal.  I don’t want to talk about it more than I have to. 

Between driving to Denver and arriving at the house where I will spend the next five weeks, I was in transit for just over 25 hours (I still haven’t slept since yesterday morning, so my proof-reading may be poor tonight).  Surprisingly, it wasn’t so terrible.  In Minneapolis, I spent a few hours playing around on the complimentary iPad supplied at every lounge seat in the terminal while the bartender kept bringing me vodka tonics until I was dizzy.  There are worse ways to travel.  On the flight from Atlanta to Santiago, I watched several brand new movies and ate airplane food while trying to find a semi-amicable compromise between the sleeping pills and the painfully uncomfortable economy seat.

My warm reception in the house of my host, a quintilingual (that’s five, folks) interpreter by the name of Andres, helped to recuperate me from the long travels and separation anxiety.  This is where things start getting to be pretty cool.  I am currently sharing the house with an ethno-botanic alternative therapist (this is best translation I have), an Egyptian language student and fearless feminist from Cairo who has agreed to teach me Arabic, and a philosophy major from Chicago who, from what I can tell, just likes to travel.  I also met up with an old friend of the Pfisterer family, whose kindness and willingness to help will be the difference between a successful, positive experience, and 7 months of counting the days until I can go home.  I spent several hours in her home, getting to know her family, and this recuperated me even further.    

Tomorrow I will go out and spending time familiarizing myself with the city, the metro stations, where my school is, where the malls are, and hopefully buy a functioning cell-phone.  First, I need sleep.  Stay tuned: pictures are to come.