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By Timothy Bates
Sebago, Maine
Geography
After Mac: National Geographic
Taking one last swig of ginger ale and reclining in my seat, I leaned back and gazed out the window at the clouds and mountaintops below. My eyes closed and I felt a little twinge—a twinge that said, “I’m glad to be going home.” As we flew northward with the Andes in view, the realization came to me that “home” meant Santiago, Chile—the first of many small signs I was adopting Santiago as my home base.
In the community there were public lectures on the Mapuche people, local orchestral performances, jarring student demonstrations and a level of poverty I had never seen.
—Timothy Bates |
Chile is one of the most geographically diverse countries in the world. It spans 2,700 miles north-to-south along the Andean mountains, yet its area is just slightly less than twice the size of Montana. It includes a variety of natural regions, from the Atacama Desert in the north to the forests in the mid-south, from the stark landscapes of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego regions to Easter Island in the Pacific. I was struck by the beauty and diversity of the landscapes.
With around a third of the country’s population, Santiago represents a huge cross section of Chilean culture. I noticed the contrast between the dirty, unreliable buses and the gleaming, efficient subway system. I roamed the center of the city on foot, finding coffee shops, cool historic neighborhoods, artisan markets, museums and plazas. In the community there were public lectures on the Mapuche people, local orchestral performances, jarring student demonstrations and a level of poverty I had never seen, sometimes within a stone’s throw of the most elite neighborhoods. And of course, there were soccer games.
Living with a Chilean family, I attended classes in Spanish with Chileans at the University of Chile. There were times when I could hardly believe I was there and actually managing. Each day I went about my new daily routine, learning the Chilean lifestyle and slang and coming to understand that while life was different there, it still functioned just fine.
I learned to like tomatoes with everything, to tolerate UHT-pasteurized milk and gummy cheeses, and to recognize the seasonal availability of certain fresh foods. Going out on a Friday night meant leaving the house at midnight and returning at sunrise. Accepting the Chilean “relaxed” time—in which no one is ever punctual—was more difficult, as was the bus system without official stops or schedules, and the fact that grade inflation hasn’t really hit Chilean universities yet.
All of these experiences culminated in not just learning to live in a new, distinct place, but also in starting to internalize it. When I returned to the States, I continued to grow hungry for lunch around 2:30 p.m.; I missed my post-class café and discussion; and I had to readjust to our more structured academic experience—one in which there are regular assignments, homework and many grades spread over the semester, rather than one final exam.
After all my classes, travels and experiences, perhaps my favorite memory was when a Chilean on the street asked, after speaking with me, if I was Chilean. This was one of those small signs—perhaps the final one—that Chile was indeed becoming home.
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