The drawbacks of being someone's boss

I am enjoying my new job. It has lots of challenges, it is varied, and I still get to teach. I spend my day organising other peoples' schedules (which sometimes results in me remembering theirs and not mine), thinking up new and interesting ways to organise materials in our office, creating new materials, and liaising with students and teachers. Unfortunately this means that sometimes I have to speak to teachers about serious issues, about things I don't necessarily want to discuss with them. This is part of my job, but not part that I am very good at. It upsets me, and I find it difficult to portray the seriousness of some of these situations. It is something that I am learning, but it always makes for a hard day. Let's just hope that I don't have to do it too often in the future, and that this has just been a particularly bad month!

Primavera

Spring, a word that conjours a coil of metal ready to release all of it's energy, is the perfect word for this time of year. The catalyst of the change of general attitude is the national day of Chile, the 18th of September, which sweeps the country in happiness, and drapes her sometimes drab winter buildings with the bold colours of her independence: the white of the fading snow, the blue of her depthless sky, and the red of her soul and the blood of the people. In spring, this blood courses stronger, thicker, among the brotherhood who reside in her body. The women swing their hips a little more provocatively after shedding their winter cocoons of trousers in favour of skirts, and the men vocalise their appreciation with the virile of freshly sexed adolescents. Life is celebrated, as it should be after the darkness of the andean winter, and the good things - family, dancing, conversation, food and drink - are enjoyed. This spirit will be tempered, almost suffocated, in the stifling summer heat, but for now that music continues and the people smile and enjoy.

Surfing curves

Most people don't know this about me, but I am a prolific writer. I never said that any of it was any good, and in fact most of it is a complete waste of space, but it is what I do to try and marry the ideas in my head together. So here is one that usually would be part of the 90% that never sees the glare of a public forum.

It seems to me like nothing in Chile is straight.

It occurred to me today as I crossed one of the main motorways that cuts through Santiago. It consists of three lanes of traffic in either direction, split by the metro track which runs immediately between the two. The metro tracks are not dead straight as I expect from train tracks, but curve gently first in one direction and then the other. Being familiar with rush hour mayhem I know that this minute curvature facilitates the humiliating experience of falling on a complete stranger penned in either directly in front of you, or directly behind you, as the train hurtles from one station to the next. Metro surfing as it were. Alameda, the main thoroughfare of the city is similarly discordant to the straight lines of convention, with several gentle curves adding interest to the already mystifying lane system that barely functions most days.

Metaphorically speaking, this gentle curve and lack of true directness extends into Chilean culture. When asked direct questions, Chileans will almost never answer in the negative. Saying no is impolite. Rather, you will find yourself believing that yes you are meeting for dinner tomorrow night when in fact they have no intention. It is not a true wish to mislead, these are not corners in the train tracks, rather a wish to not disappoint and to let you down gently. Something will come up, usually family related, and the plan will fall through. Just a gentle curve in the tracks. For a laid back kiwi, this is not too much of a difficulty, and I adjusted fairly easily to these "flexible" plans. But I have witnessed many an upset foreigner, more accustomed to direct plans than surfing the chilean curves, fall on the person in front of them as the train sailed around a gentle bend. It is all part of the process of learning to surf not only the metro, but also the customs of this fascinating country.

"La chica antisísmica"

La chica antisísmica, or anti-earthquake girl. That is what my friends are calling me, and it's true, I have been incredibly lucky in missing two very large earthquakes in the two countries that I have been in most recently. It is a little unnerving - like these natural disasters are following me around, but I guess I mustn't think so much of myself, it has nothing to do with me, right?!

It is not a pleasant sensation, reading that first message on the Mercurio website that says something like "massive earthquake in NZ" There is a rush to the NZ news website which has of course crashed, and then the feeling that oh my god I am on the other side of the world and something horrible has just happened to everyone I know and love. Of course it is never that bad (at least not so far), but the feelings of isolation and helplessness are not connected to the part of the brain functioning with reason. The thought is how do I contact people, do they have power (the main phone on the farm only functions if there is power, and my parents never hear the other one), and that I can't call on my cellphone so where is the nearest call centre. Then my dear friends in Chile start calling me, worried for my family, and asking questions that I simply can't answer. Leaving work in a hurry and finding the call centre I rapidly punch in the number incorrectly the first time. When I get through my Dad answers with his customary "Are you there??" The conversation follows something like this:
Karen: It's Karen, are you OK?
Dad: We're fine, why?
K: Didn't you just have a big earthquake?
D: Oh yeah, there was a bit of a shake, why, did you feel it over there?
K: No Dad, I live on the other side of the world.
D: Oh yeah that. Umm, how did you know about it then?
K: It was on the news.
D: Why were you watching the NZ news at four in the morning?
K: It's not four in the morning here. It's lunchtime.
D: Oh yeah, I forgot. Do you get the NZ news over there?
K: Yes we get the NZ news, its called the internet.
D: Ahh yes, the internet is amazing.
K: But I saw it on the Chilean news.
D: On the Chilean news? Really? Do they get news from NZ?
K: Yes Dad. It was quite big. Half of the centre of Chch is destroyed.
D: Hmm, that is quite bad. I might go and turn the tele on.
K: Do you have power?
D: Ahh no. I might go and turn the radio on.
K: OK, as long as everything is OK. I will go.
D: OK, take care. Be careful in Chile.
K: Because of the risk of earthquakes??
D: Yes, they have big earthquakes over there.
K: OK, bye.

Yes I have dramatised this somewhat, but not a lot. And it is worth noting that it was 6am and I probably woke him up, but it really was quite hilarious. My parents didn't even get out of bed, so I guess it wasn't that bad. Mum said it was really scary, but she still didn't get out of bed. Needless to say, I wasn't so worried after that conversation. I didn't remind him how he woke me up with the news of the Chilean earthquake by telling me and I quote "there has been a massive earthquake in Chile, and Chile is gone". Nothing like "good morning, I have some bad news, would you like a cup of tea, now, there has been a bit of an earthquake in Chile, don't panic it's not too bad". No, nothing like that, just "Chile's gone". And then reminding me every five minutes about how unsafe Chile is because it has earthquakes (I haven't told him about the volcanoes that erupt over here). Anyway, I hope that this wasn't some kind of karma... and quite honestly I hope my friends are right, and that I really am anti-earthquake girl, because I really hate earthquakes.

Springtime awakening

September is coming, possibly my favourite month in my short experience here in Chile. The weather is improving so the people are happy, their are a couple of public holidays one of which is the national independence day, and Cueca, choripan and empanadas abound in the streets which makes me personally smile from one side of my stomach to the other.

Other things that are making me happy right now are that I am starting a new job on Monday as the Academic Director of the Institute, and that I have moved house into a much more adult situation where things are clean and tidy and there is food in the fridge.

I have some wonderful friends here, and lately I have learnt a lot about them and myself through a serious of unfortunate events which led to me leaving my last house. Some of my friends really stepped up and helped me out. Some of them physically, some of them emotionally, but they all contributed as part of my family here in Chile. People are more expressive here, and much less concerned about "proper manners" than we might be in NZ or Australia too. Sometimes it can be frustrating as people don't always respect that some people need a little time out, but other times it is completely endearing. For example, on Friday I was tired and didn't want to go out partying, and told each of my three closest friends this in different conversations, only to have all three turn up at my house with sushi and a bottle of wine. Their reasoning was that "if Mohammad won't come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammad".

People are very content to just hang out here too, and simple activities like picnics in the park are some of my favourite times. Sunshine, food, and a guitar can make any day bright and shiny. And finally I am comfortable enough with the language to not feel constantly frazzled with the effort of understanding. I can talk to anyone patient, about any range of topics, and I can enjoy it. I can translate things for new teachers, I can have conversations on the telephone for half an hour with any of my friends, or the taxi driver on the way home at night.

Not everything is glitzy. I have learnt a lot about trust and loyalty, and a lack of it among some people. I understand that the code that I am accustomed to at home between friends can be somewhat different here, especially loyalty between female friends, but learning and growing is part of the process of living in any new culture. Right now I feel like Chile is stretching her arms after a long siesta, and that she will get up and dance a cueca brava with me at any second.

On forgetting, and remembering

Winter has arrived here in Santiago. I find myself praying for rain and the clear air that inevitably follows as the smog chokes the city and it's inhabitants, slowly, like the second-hand smoke on a Saturday night in the TAB. My students are also praying for rain, so that there is more snow on the ski fields. And the housekeeper down the street wants rain so she doesn't have to water the grass "every goddamn day" (her words not mine). The earthquake was only 6 months ago, and yet we have more or less forgotten. Even the TV news only covers the reconstruction about once a week now, 5 minutes for the earthquake and 55 minutes for the football. However, occasionally when I turn the tele on, and see someone lining their temporary housing with flattened milk cartons to insulate it, or sleeping in a tent under a tarpoulin surrounded by sandbags to try and keep the water out, or someone is speaking about the below zero temperatures they are enduring while waiting for some solid shelter because their house was destroyed six months ago in a massive earthquake, I think that perhaps I can deal with the smog, and that skiing is a luxery, and that we should try and remember these things, and not forget.

Riding the bus

The place to really know a country isn't in the airport, at a restaurant or nightclub or in the natural history museum, it is on the public transport, especially the bus. Every country that I have ever visited has highlighted this to me - buy a cheap seat (or stand) and ride the bus for an hour in any direction and see what happens. I couldn't recount all of my experiences on buses, from nursing other people's children and teaching them nursery rhymes, having songs invented about me, seeing a rush hour bus crammed with people suddenly turn into a dance floor to meeting a woman going to the market who showed me her baby goat wrapped in a shawl and then introduced me to 10 of her family members in the terminal. Of course not every day is like this, but usually, if you have your eyes open, something is going on. Even if it just observing the people, heading home exhausted from work, or excited before a night out.

Of course the buses in Santiago are a kind of theatre, with everything from poetry readings to beat-box rapping constituting entertainment (I kid you not I got both on the same journey the other night). There is comedy and theatre, usually ad-lib which while very daunting to the new-comer (especially when it is rapid chilean spanish) can be hilarious. And there is always someone trying to sell you bandaids, mints or icecream (depending on the season). So go on, next time you have no idea about a country, try it out. Get on a bus and see where it takes you. I am sure it will be quite a journey.