Santiago

This whole trip I have been privileged to be hosted by people who treat me as part of their family. I don’t think my situation is extremely unique; for most of the Chileans I have met are willing to bend over backwards to make a foreigner feel comfortable in their country. The family who received me in Santiago was the same, and I have grown quite close to them! They are a family of five, and their eldest daughter is a close friend of mine who was a fellow volunteer during our week in Tirua. The Perez family is well known in Sta. Olga and Clara Estrella, the communities in the southern part of Santiago where the RSCJ sisters live and work, and where I stayed last week. All of their daughters attend the local RSCJ school in the region, and the parents are extremely involved in the pastoral ministry of the school and their local church, to make sure the school that provides so many opportunities for a brighter future for the future generations continues strong. This family, and in particular, their daughter Nicole, has been my guide in Santiago. And oh, do you need a guide in this monstrosity of a city!  Santiago has a population of about 6 million people, and the atmosphere of the center of the town, in the bus stations and underground metros is crazy. People walk faster than New Yorkers, perhaps adding to the already desert hot climate of the city, situated at the foothills of the beautiful red and smokish Andes.  My first full day, Nicole and I took a metro into town to climb the Cerro de San Cristobal, the tallest hill in the middle of the city, where a large and beautiful statue of the Virgen de la Imaculada Concepcion, or Virgen of the Immaculate Concepcion, stands. By foot, the hike takes about 2 hours, but we, walking slowly and taking frequent breaks for water or photo ops, took about 3. The climb was well worth it, as the view of the city from the top was spectacular. Although somewhat foggy thanks to pollution, we were able to see all of the city, including the tops of the nearby Andes, whose icy peaks contrasted almost humorously with the merciless ground heat.

The next week, I spent most of my time in Sta. Olga, resting and reading, and taking advantage of my first real down time since I had been in Chile.  I also can proudly write down in my story book of life that I learned how to cook while in Chile, watching and helping my Chilean mom fix traditional dishes every day such as pastel de choclo (a type of corn and meat casserole), sopa de cazuela (pumpkin soup), or ensalada Chilena (diced tomatoes douched in vegetable oil and cilantro), with freshly baked bread. Needless to say, I have been all but ill fed down here, and may have to be rolled back to the US.