Kilo Empanadas

The past two weeks have been absolutely incredible. I finally traveled outside of Santiago, got to party at a fire station(!!), and experienced a Chilean National Holiday. Spring has arrived in Chile, and the weather has been gorgeous- clear blue skies, blooming trees, and pleasant nights. I haven’t been able to update due to a lack of internet, so I’ll give a highlight reel of the past few weeks to show you what I’ve been up to.

Pomaire and Isla Negra

Last Friday classes were canceled and all forty-five of us took a bus to Pomaire, a small, dusty village about 45 minutes west of Santiago. Pomaire is famous throughout all of Chile for its beautiful pottery. The town was tiny- only two streets wide- but crammed with stores selling bowls, plates, masks, cups, etc. After browsing the shops, we ate a delicious almuerzo at a cute, family owned restaurant. Pomaire is home to what must be the biggest empanadas in all of Chile. Almost every restaurant advertised “1 Kilo Empanadas.” For those unfamiliar with the kilo, it is 2.2 lbs.!!! Though my friends and I refrained from this monstrous meal, my host sister has told me that her boyfriend, who easily can finish off a family sized pizza solo, can only eat a third of one of the notorious empanadas.

After lunch we were able to tour a site where the pottery was actually made. Inside the warehouse were hundreds of pots, ranging from small-plant sized to ENORMOUS-so big that I could easily fit inside. Two employees showed us how they spin the ceramic wheel, and then we were allowed to try our hand at pottery making.
Showing us how it's done

The master and the apprentice

My “bowl” was lopsided and jagged; clay spinning is not my calling! After quite a few laughs (I wasn’t the only unskilled potterist) we re-boarded the bus and headed to Isla Negra, a small beach on the coast.

Isla Negra was once the third (or fourth?) home to the acclaimed Chilean poet/writer Pablo Neruda. A longtime lover of the sea, Neruda’s house was designed to mimic the layout of a ship. Each room boasted statues, pottery, and maps from his travels abroad. Pablo’s bed was perfectly situated so that the sun rose over his head and set at his feet. The view from this second story room was breathtaking- wall to ceiling windows gave a perfect view of the beach and sea below. There isn’t much to Isla Negra apart from Neruda’s abode, so we left soon after the tour and headed back to good ol’ Santiago.

The view from Pablo's room

Talagante

The next day two fri

ends and I headed to Talagante, a town maybe 40 minutes outside of Santiago, to meet up with friend Juan Ignacio (see previous entry) for a BBQ. His house is in the countryside and absolutely beautiful. It was so nice to meet his family and see where he grew up. During the evening a bunch of his friends showed up and we hung out around the fire-pit, listened to music, and ate the honest-to-God best meat I have ever had.

Two realizations I made during the asado. #1. Chileans never sleep. I finally had to say goodnight around 3 but the party was still going strong when I left. At school in SLO, if we go out it means we leave for the party at 9:30 or 10, and return to our houses, at the very latest, at two or so. This is not the case in Chile. People don’t go out until at least midnight (if you show up to a bar at 10 you will literally be the only person there) and don’t return home until sometimes as late as FIVE IN THE MORNING!!! I swear, Juan Ignacio’s friends crawled out of the ground or climbed down from trees and kept appearing late into the night! I really value my sleep, and though I’m trying to adjust to this insane schedule, it’s been tough. I max out at about 3:30, but with proper training I hope to make it to the illusive 5 one of these days.

Realization # 2. I cannot understand people my own age. During the week I usually feel pretty good about my Spanish. I understand my family, they understand me, I am learning new words daily, and am psyched when I properly use the preterit tense. Then the weekend rolls around and things change. As awesome as it is to make Chilean friends, it is hard work to just have a simple conversation. Young people use tons of slang, words with double meanings, and don’t pronounce anything. I can listen to two college students on the metro and understand almost nothing. Chilean friends have assured me that even native Spanish speakers from other parts of the world have a difficult time understanding Chileans, which makes me feel better about how little I understand. And, as frustrating as it gets at time, I realize that ultimately my Spanish will be stronger if I keep hanging with people my own age.

At the beginning of this post I promised tales of partying with firefighters and the big Bicentennial celebration but I’m getting tired and you’re probably getting bored. Check back in a couple days to find out the story behind this photo...

Ciao and Besos,

Hennessy