That time in Chile

I am writing this after reading an article on the NYTimes about Sopaipillas. Memories are like that, aren’t they? Something random pulls at a thread, and you just keep on pulling.

I was there in Chile between 2011 and 2012. I don’t remember much of my time in Chile, a country that is so narrow and long that it would take days to traverse vertically, yet only an hour or two to get across from the sea to the Andes.

Whenever I think back at it, it feels just like everything else in my distant memory; a bunch of spotty events interlaced with a general feeling of pervasive sadness. I am glad to have been there, but I would not go back there to live. If I were to choose again, I would not have gone. It’s not worth it.Regardless, here are some of the moments that I can recall.

The first memory was of us walking along the river in the evening with our suitcases and trying to find dinner. It was warm. I was unsettled.

Us touring the apartment we ended up renting for about 400 dollars a month. We living in that apartment, it had either a red and white checkerboard curtain or table cloth. There was an ikea lounge chair. A balcony upon which we witness a bank robbery. The bedroom door slid.

The job hunt, where we walked from one English teaching institution to another, looking for positions to teach english. We walked and walked under an intense and unrelenting sun. We walked past the parliament building. Why do all South American countries build them like that?

Us studying for the GRE at an air conditioned public library. It must have been a publicly funded project, the small building was nicely designed, the interior had light colored wood with many desks and chairs.

Getting tear-gassed at a university student led protest against tuition hikes. I was coming back from buying tofu. We were vegetarians then. An armored truck rammed down the boulevard like a nascar car and made a 180 degree turn. Smoke and gas everywhere.

Going to an American style mall and getting a donut shaped like a U with spikes. I suppose I lived in the city center of Santiago. The mall is a bit on the out-skirts. We didn’t have any money. We went there as a vacation, to be showered by capitalism.

Eating sopaipillas that we bought from a street vendor. I would pass by the same stand many times, getting off the subway after work, and resisting the urge to buy some. They are basically fried dough with spicy sauce on top. It was the most delicious thing.

New year’s eve having grapes on a balcony with the landlord and other people. There were fireworks.

Cashing our cheques and hiking the money in the freezer in a zip lock bag. Later, we were woken by a loud clash and went on to the balcony to see that bank branch getting robbed by a bunch of quite clumsy men in black hoods.

There was an earthquake. We were woken up in the middle of the night. We left the flat and went out onto the street. We went back in and slept. Next day we went to work.

I took my class of teenagers up onto the roof of the building, I didn’t tell anyone. I taught a Jewish man at work place. I taught a children’s class where one kid tore down the curtains of the classroom. I taught an adult class.