"Por favor, Bob necesita su ayuda."

Guaco (my host mom) is holding the cake,
 and Danny (host sister) snuck into the background.

So the birthday party that my host family threw me was fantastic. Not only were they able to find decorations that actually said “Happy Birthday” (not “Feliz Cumpleaños”) but they made me tacos and got me a huge birthday cake (filled with my new favorite food called manjar – a dulce de leche that will knock your socks off). When it came time to sing Happy Birthday, my host-sister’s boyfriend pulled a guitar out of nowhere and I was serenaded. I fully expect my friends to learn how to play guitar so that next year I can be serenaded for my birthday yet again… I’m talkin’ to you Petross and Utley.

I felt like a little Gringa princess on my birthday...
they really went all out.

Nothing too notable happened last week at school. I taught the different names of animals and had the students play Animal Pictionary. Probably the most entertaining part of this game was being asked by the kids how to say “chupacabra” in English. This week’s lesson isn’t so easy: I’m teaching how to give and take directions so that they would be able to find their way around an English-speaking city. I drew a map of a little city that I shamelessly named “Carolineville” so that they can give directions to my friend Bob (a poorly drawn little man driving a blue sports car that is also poorly drawn). Occasionally Bob makes it to his destination with the student’s help, but mostly he spends the class getting directions shouted at him in Spanish since the students have a hard time understanding Bob isn’t bilingual. We’re still working on the whole English part of learning English…

Carolineville and the forever-lost Bob...

So, I came to Chile with the idea that after the program ends on November 24 I would spend the month of December travelling through other parts of South America. Forever the optimist, I was just sure that I would be able to hit up Brazil, Bolivia, Peru, Argentina, Ecuador, and even Uruguay if I was feeling sassy. When I was in Europe I was able to go all over the place because airfare there was so darn cheap, so I just assumed that it would be the same in South America. Turns out South America is a little bit bigger than Europe; a plane ticket from Buenos Aires to Lima costs about $400 on a good day. So needless to say, I’m in the process of revising my plans. Once I have some set in stone, I’m sure I’ll update the ole’ blog to complain about how expensive everything is, so get excited!

Gracias a Dios, now I have a candle!

Yesterday I got my first care package from home. Nothing can make a crummy day turn right around like a care package. My wonderful stepmother and father sent me an enormous box full of things to make my room cozier; now my walls are rocking some excellent artwork. Plus they sent me candles, which are the best gifts I could ever ask for right now – as much as I adore the ball of fluff that is Mateo, he tends to leave a puppy stench behind that room spray struggles to mask.

Overall I’m starting to get comfortable in my new home here. I no longer have a panic attack when a curious taxi driver strikes up a conversation with me – my Spanish has gone into survival mode and I don’t have nearly as hard of a time understanding everyone now (even though it’s still no walk in the park). My day-to-day has settled into a comfortable pattern that allows time for my favorite part of Latin culture: siestas. I also have started going to a little gym that is a hilarious hodge-podge of equipment from the past 30 years (including some really excellent posters of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his glory days which threaten to “Pump You Up”). I don’t really go for the equipment though; there is an aerobics class called “Fight-Do” which is a scary mix of boxing and karate that made me hurt for a solid 3 days after I took it, which I think means that it was good. The only drawback is that the music in the class is played at concert-level decibels and could very possibly damage my hearing… but no pain no gain, right?

Ok well it’s getting late, and since I’m waking up every morning at 6:30 am (which I know is hard for my family to believe) I better tuck in. So, until next time, here’s the philosophical question of the day:

If a mute swears, does his mother wash his hands with soap?

-Caroline

Advisor Abroad in Chile

**Update: I just went to the gym to what I thought was another Fight-Do class. About 30 minutes into it, I was utterly confused by the abundance of hip-shaking and the sheer lack of air-punching. Turns out I unknowingly showed up to a “RitMix” dance class which showcased all the best steps from Samba, Tango, and Salsa. Yes, that’s right: I was forced to dance in front of a room full of wonderful Latin dancers. I’m probably the most rhythmless person I have ever met. The teacher (a sassy little man in neon spandex) kept pointing me out to the rest of the class to demonstrate how not to do things… it was lovely. However, the absolute highlight of my week came at the end of our class during our cool-down: our teacher instructed us in a “sexy dance” to a Shania Twain song that involved us slinging our jackets over our shoulders. Best cool-down ever. Needless to say, I definitely double checked that tomorrow’s 4 pm class would actually be Fight-Do…