This weekend was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Where to begin. Friday maybe?
Sure, we'll start there
Friday: After we finished up with our final orientation sessions and registered for classes (hyper stressful!) our program director, Lizette took those of us who were interested to a youth group meeting at her church. We arrived to find the praise band singing and it was a really great time.
Then was the message. It was also good, but less so. Not because it was bad or boring or wasn't relevant or anything. I'm sure it probably was. I just couldn't really understand it. I mean, it was in Spanish. It was fast. I tried my best. I didn't get it. I felt better when the other Americans couldn't either. I understood it was about time because he kept saying "tiempo." That was about it. We got a quick summary from our director later who explained it was about how our timing and God's timing are sometimes very different. Afterwards there was a quick meeting of some of us exchange students and the youth leaders. After this, some of us Americans and a few of the Chilean youths went out to eat at, where else, McDonalds.
I ordered "Mac Nooguts" as they call them and fries. The McDonald's was actually really nice for a McDonalds. Maybe foreign ones are like that. I don't know. I don't visit overseas American fast food chains all that often. Anyway, as I went upstairs to join the group. It was such a good time. We were laughing and talking. We got along like we'd known each other for years. Everything was clicking. Translating was easy when it was so natural. For those of you who have learned to speak another language, may you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that when learning a language, at first you have to hear in one language, but think in your native tongue. This is how it's been for me most of my Spanish-speaking life (about 8 years I think?), but that night I wasn't hearing Spanish and having to translate in my head to what it meant in English. I heard in Spanish and it just was in my head in Spanish. And I could respond without thinking my response in English first, translating, then sending it through my face hole. It felt like all my years of Spanish studying had finally come to mean something. I was elated.
I was especially happy, because that night, I understood my first real joke in Spanish and, for the first time, made a joke in a foreign language. Now, when I say joke, I don't mean the formal type that follow the lines of "A [blank] walked into a bar..." or "What do you get when [blank]," What I mean, is I added a piece of humor to our conversation. Now for those of you who know me personally, you might understand why this is so important for me. Being able to make jokes and be humorous is a HUGE part of how I communicate and form relationships with people. I feel like if I weren't able to joke with people, they wouldn't be able to understand who I really am. It's exciting and encouraging to know that I'm sort of regaining this ability.
Later that evening, my friend Christina and I were heading back to our homes in the same neighborhood when she, apparently in as good a mood as I, said, "You know, I think I'm starting to love it here." I couldn't have put it better. We had walked the few blocks from the McDonalds to a main central plaza where we could hail a collectivo to our homes. We navigated the city like pros. This place, like the language, was beginning to feel less foreign and more familiar.
The next day was a glorious relief. The week up to that point had been scheduled to bursting, with seemingly every minute packed with some thing to do or another. But on Saturday, there was nothing. I slept in. Walked around the city a bit. Chilled. It was great. That afternoon I received a text on my new phone. (Oh yeah, I have a phone here now. It's super simple, no camera, no full keypad, just the necessary buttons to call and text. Since most Chileans use a pay-as-you-go plan it's super cheap to own too, which is especially nice.) It was one of the Chilean girls from the night before. She said a few of the exchange students were going to go to her house that evening to watch the first two Christian Bale Batman movies. I agreed (of course) and later that night found myself yet again in good company.
At one point in the evening, after we'd finished "Batman Begins" and then agreed that we didn't really want to watch the next one that same night, one of our American friends, Jordan, found a spider on the ceiling. It was kind of small and dark brown with long spindly legs. It descended from its perch on the rough white ceiling and began to descend slowly on a strand of silk. Jordan, being a brave individual who likes creepy things like spiders was about to reach for the spider to pick it up and play with it. I've always kind of admired people who can do that. I can't. I hate spiders. I think they're interesting to examine. But only when dead, under glass, or online. Anyway, as he reached out, several of the Chileans exclaimed "Araña de Rincón!" Directly translated, this means "Spider of the Corner," and Jordan didn't seemed bothered that this spider had come from the corner and didn't really flinch.
Because of my (somewhat) irrational fear of the eight-legged monsters, had Googled "Chilean Spiders" before the trip, just to know what I'd be up against here. There are numerous spiders in Chile, but only a few really notable ones. There is the Mouse spider, The Chilean Rose Tarantula (I didn't even have the courage to open the wikipedia page on that one, thinking that some things are better left unknown), and the Chilean Recluse Spider, or as it's known in Spanish: La Araña de Rincón. It's a more deadly cousin of the North American Brown Recluse Spider, and can cause necrosis of the skin around the bite, leading to possible tissue and muscle death which can lead to gangrene and may require amputation of the affected area. It's also been known to cause death in several cases due to renal failure or other complications. So basically it's horrible. And he was about to touch it.
Knowing this, I calmly looked at him and stated, "WAIT NO THATS A POISONOUS SPIDER ITS THE CHILEAN RECLUSE IT CAN KILL YOU OR TAKE SOME FINGERS DON'T TOUCH IT." That did the trick. We killed it with two placemats. Ever since, anything that brushes against me or moves in the corner of my eye causes me to flinch. And I have to check under my covers every night, just to make sure there's not some vengeful relative of the dead arachnid, looking to seek revenge (What? What do you mean I let my imagination run away with me?). We had a fun time the rest of the evening though, playing Dutch Blitz, a semi-obscure card game I had grown up with and was apparently fairly popular in Chile (who knew?)
On Sunday church was good (the music was great, while the sermon, yet again, lost me). I talked with my parents that evening and went to bed early. Classes would begin the next day, and I had a class at 8:15. I knew I would want to be early and there on time. I made sure my alarm was set to the right time and switched the on/off switch on the top of my small batter powered alarm clock so I'd be ready for the next day. I fell asleep quickly and slept soundly, calmed and reassured by my recent progress and the relaxing and fun weekend that had just ended.
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