Chile – Chapter Two

I probably won’t write every day (phew! everyone says) but I thought I would give a quick update for my first day back at school after 32 years and a brush with Chilean bureaucracy…

I woke up and attempted to make coffee this morning. In the end, I had it “gaucho” style. i.e. grains in a cup, no filter, no press. It seems Chile is only slowly embracing coffee culture, and most people still drink the powered stuff. After that, I went over the road to “school”. It really was like stepping back to a 19th century school house. When I arrived, the receptionist already had my “exam” open and on my appearance, called over a senior teacher.. I started to worry that it was so bad they wouldn’t know what to do with me… send me home? In the end I was put in a class with a few Germans, Dutch and one Brazilian (who surely will find Spanish easy?!)

The teacher came in, and started in Spanish straight away. I was lost before we’d even started! I am so useless at languages that I spent the whole class thinking “frage” means question in Spanish, but this is actually German! (Thanks Luna for setting me straight on that one). I am happy doing quantum physics and thinking in infinite dimensional Hilbert space, but ask me to conjugate a verb and my mind goes to jelly. We had a whole 3 hours on topics that I don’t even understand in English (reflective verbs, nuclear verbs, transitive something or other… ) the explanations came back in Spanish, but I don’t think it would make a difference if they were in Mandarin…

Somehow I struggled though, asking a lot of questions (sorry to the fellow student that had to leave and go up a class, I think I was holding her and everyone else back!). Still, I didn’t come to pass an exam or get a job. I hope I just survive the week… It’s 3 hours every morning and they are organising various excursions in the afternoon. To a cemetery and a dead poet’s house – Pablo Neruda.

In other news… Well you’d think I was experienced at travelling and being careful with my stuff. Given that I am carrying around a ludicrous amount of specialist mountaineering equipment, I’ve been especially worried about losing a bag. Of course, it happened. I lost my down-jacket on the plane. I think in the confusion and tiredness whilst disembarking it was picked up by someone who recognised its worth. I was hoping it would be handed in. I would literally die if I went to -20C on the mountain without it. So I am rather upset that it has not been found at the airport or on the plane. So today I had the fun of reporting the matter to the police.

I could be philosophical about this and think “it’s an experience”. Sitting for two hours in a hot empty waiting room built in colonial days wondering how is it possible for civil servants to actually manage to do so little (it’s an art form) but by the second hour, I was a bit bored of watching the coming-and-goings of the local gendarme. I mean I think I would actually find it hard to do nothing while people wait. However, in the end, the policemen was very helpful and friendly and patient with my non-existent Spanish (thankfully he had chat GPT to his aid) and I got my report filed for the insurance.

Today we also had a welcome from the head of the school (a husband and wife team who shared local wine and home-made empanadas with us). I didn’t understand everything that was said, but it included an explanation of the public transport system (thanks! too late to be of use to me) and the kind of tips you’d follow in any city (don’t get your phone stolen). Plus a few recommendations of restaurants and a reassurance we are in a safe neighbourhood.

Anyway, that concludes my second day and my continued humiliation as the world’s worst language learner!