Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Welcome to G.E. May I take your passport number?



I’m surprised by the amount of truth in the wisdom I was given by my dad before I left the states (such truth is best solidified through personal experience:  “Crap, he was right!”).  This truth is that I was to learn a tremendous amount about those things that I could never possibly have expected to learn about.  I expected that I would, eventually, get to know my future English students in the business realm on a personal level, maybe even become friendly with them.  Who knows, maybe some of them would like me enough that they would remember me later on when I asked for a work reference.  You never know, right?  At this point, this particular expectation that I held has not proven to be impossible, nor has it exactly bloomed to its full potential.  

On the other hand, I’m making great friends with the receptionists.  Being a travelling English teacher, my routine is growing quite regular:  I go to the receptionist of the business for whom my student(s) work(s), recite my name, passport number (because according to the Chilean government, I’m not recognizable as a person yet, but am fully entitled to pay 20% in taxes), who I’m teaching on that particular day, and agree to wait while said student(s) is/are paged.  After several weeks of this, the receptionists to whom I give this information and I have come to an unspoken understanding that the whole process is a mild pain in the ass.  In accordance with this agreement, we are able to socialize.  The usual topics include where I’m from, why I sound like a Spaniard, complaining about co-workers, etc.  During my most recent socialization hour, a security guard for one such company who lived in Miami for 30 years told me that he understands the economic possibility that awaits the Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Hondurans, Colombians and other Spanish-speakers who immigrate to the United States looking for work, but to see a young American working in a Latin American country for his own economic possibility was refreshing:  “it makes me feel good,” he said,  “I don’t know why, but I really like it.”

My routine has been made all that much more enjoyable and convenient after moving into my new apartment.  For a kid from a rather small town who watches shows like Friends, How I Met Your Mother, and other shows depicting yuppie characters and their big-city shenanigans, experiencing city-life is a pretty big deal.  I’m on the 8th floor of a building that’s a block from a subway stop in Providencia, the Manhattan of Santiago.  I live a block from my gym, and the first floor of the very building across the street contains a bar, a 24hr liquor store, an OK Market (7-11), 4 restaurants (one of which is rumored to be Santiago’s best family-owned empanada shop), and a bakery.  The view from my balcony is of the Santiago sky-line, including the Costanera Center, the tallest building on the South American continent.  There pigeons outside my bedroom window right now.  My room is rather small, only 6 inches away from being my stretched arm’s width apart (I measured), but it is quite comfortable and equipped with a new mattress, T.V. and cable, and surprising amounts of storage space.  Need I say more?

Yes.  I share house with two other guys, one financial administrator (I think) for a mining company and the other, a doctor and director of a small out-patient medical center.  I have agreed to start teaching private English lessons to the former, while the latter is fluently bi-lingual already, having studied medicine for a short time at a school in Great Britain.  With these two fellows comes the vast social circle of which they are a part, being shenanigan-prone, big-city yuppies themselves.  Therein lays a possible solution to the piece of my puzzle that I am lacking, making friends.  This weekend is scheduled with a welcome fiesta, which I am certain I will report about soon. 

 

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