Quédate en el camino.

Quédate en el camino.
Ha llegado la noche para ti.
Tal vez de madrugada nos veremos de nuevo.
- Pablo Neruda "El Olvido"

I recently went to one of Pablo Neruda's three houses here in Chile. This one is located in Barrio Bellavista (the "hip, cultural" place to be) and it is hidden in the backdrop of the action right up against the hill. If you didn't know it was Pablo Neruda's previous house, you'd probably pass it by and think it was simply another well-designed house on the hill with colors exploding around it to keep it in line with the rest of the area.

When we went in, there was this presence that seemed to loom over each room and an odd calm that has been hard to find within these city limits. Each of his three houses are built to make you feel like you're actually in a boat, and he achieved that feeling almost to perfection. The history of his life and the stories that we heard were pretty amazing, and you could see how much of that reflected itself in his poetry. I wish I could bring to life the feeling of walking through his house but it is fairly indescribable, and with my newly present lack of English, I fear I may simply butcher any sort of description I try to muster up. I hope some pictures below can speak a little bit for me:






I find that I am stuck between two different languages, and thus two different worlds. I have not yet mastered the Spanish language, but I am quickly losing my ability to think, write, and even speak in my mother tongue. I recently asked a few of my "gringo" friends if they were going through the same thing and they admitted much frustration in this aspect. It's been a really eye opening experience and a really confusing one at the same time. I know I have mentioned this before, but its becoming more and more present as time goes on. I find I sit in front of my blog quite often and quit before making it to the end of a blog due to the frustration of not expressing myself in the way I'd like, or the new fights I get in with 'spell-check'. I also notice that I tend to write like a 4-year-old girl with run-on sentences, rambling thoughts, and incorrect words (ie: their, there, they're...). It drives me crazy to the point of avoiding my blog, or just accepting the fact that I now sound like a fool in two languages. I find that speaking 4-year-old English all day with my students doesn't help my case, and it leads me to many of the above mentioned mistakes. I suppose more than anything, you are all now sufficiently warned and will not cringe when you stumble upon one of those run-ons, spelling mistakes, or incoherent thoughts. Either way, it's been a very interesting transition.

The city has been greeted with a layer of smog, and overnight the blanket of dirt was laid over the mountains. I have never in my life seen so much filth in the air, and the beautiful view we once had of the mountain range is now covered by a hazy mess. With the smog came the autumn, and I must say my prediction has been correct: no autumn will ever hold a flame to the autumns in New England. As I was reflecting on (more like missing) the fall in New England, I realized how much that is part of OUR culture. The bright leaves go hand-in-hand with apple cider or carved pumpkins. The cold air is our clue to put on more layers and start baking something yummy. The gloves get slipped on and hair becomes messy under warm hats and hoods. There is simply nothing like a New England autumn. I always keep my eye out for leaves bursting into shades of orange and red, but I am often disappointed to realize (time and again) that I will not be lucky enough to find one here.

My mind has already started to retire in English, so I might have to cut it there until I can re-boot and make sense of myself. This weekend, I am going to the mountains outside the city to breathe some fresh air and go camping. I'll still be keeping my eye out for leaves changing colors (out of habit) though I know it'll be a miracle to see one.

I'll keep you updated on what I find.

I miss you all and hope you're doing well. I think about everyone back home and what adventures they may be up to. Keep in touch.

Que todo este bien y espero que ustedes sigan sonriendo.

Keep the hugs flowing.
Send some through the smog.
Much much love.