Don’t mention the war!
Some time around 6.00 my alarm went and I rolled over.Mistake. By the time I finally got up and went into the kitchen it was 6.45. Jorge was on the phone saying “we leave at 7.”. Somehow I managed to down a hot chocolate, two small bits of bread and a tin if peaches (yes a whole tin!) and found myself in the jeep, in a daze, heading through the rush hour traffic in Santiago. At O’Higgin’s Park Nick was waiting for us. He was looking disturbingly fresh. He hopped in and the “conversation” continued, in Spanish. As daylight established itself and we reached the city limits and then the countryside (passing thousands of commuters on the bikes along the side of the Panamericana Highway), we found ourselves engrossed in conversation as only Latinos (and Irishmen!) can… Jorge confidently asserted that the Falklands were not the Falklands, they were the Malvinas and belonged to Argentina. What were the British ever doing there??? Feeling aggrieved, I tried to counter with the idea of democracy but it was a dialogue of the deaf. Outnumbered I tried to change the topic. My first taste of the Latin American sense of “outrage” over “colonialists”. Was this why he had asked me out here to work?? To vent some spleen over some centuries-old feeling of injustice at the hands of European settlers?? Charming!
At least the all-female department weren’t so eager to right centuries of political wrongs in an angry chat during rush hour. At 8.30 I was with Paola again. Not very inpspiring, I rather felt she was clock-watching. I a;lso still didnt feel quite alert what with the peaches and the war argument on the way in. I was treated however to watching Carolina with tercero A. Another inspiring class as she used TPR and engaging tones with her class. They all responded well and I felt priviledged to have been a part of it. After that I watched Rebecca show the same video to another class. Slightly better delivery but I was trying hard not to yawn I have to say… Lunch. Then another treat - quarto A with Carolina.
Nick kindly showed me the bus stop and I travelled on, zombie-like, on the first bus that came along. It tok me to estacion central where I got a bus back to Casa Yoland for my remaining posessions (not sure why I didnt take them the day before but that’s what I’ve writtne in my diary!) I found myself cheerily packed and ready to go back to Jaime’s just before 6pm. Jorge rang offering a lift but I said not to worry I could get the bus. I struggled out manfully, bowed somewhat by a rucsac, plastic bag full of maths books and a sports bag, not to mention my guitar. When I arrived at the bus stp the plastic bag broke! I struggled onto the bus with everything and somehow managed. Struggling off again at estacion central I wadled along the streets and off at Santa Lucia. Why were people always giving me drole looks? I got to the flat and had to wait a while as Jaime arrived at 6.50. I was shown into the flat again - paint flaking off the ceiling, no bin, no bed covers, an antiquated old bath with a shower attachment, old plastic toilet. But clean and tidy. I made myself some noodles and. feeling parched, asked where the neares t shop was which sold drinks. Jaime gave me an empty Coke bottle and said, “Ask for a refill - it’s cheaper.”. He gave me directions to a shop which turned out to be wrong. The bottle was filfthy so I binned it and bought two cans instead. An old woman begged some money from me,”dinero por la comocion!” . “Yeah, like I need some money for this commotion too!!” I thought inwardly. As I was trained at an MAYC conference years before I offered her tea or coffee. She stormed off in disgust. My efforts to apologise and explain that I didn’t give out my money on the streets as it was too dangerous seemed to fall on deaf ears…I finally arrived back at the flat, ate something more substantial and had to go out again as I forgot to get milk and cereal so as to avoid peaches for breakfast… Glad to say I slept well.