The Bee 2013

Last Thursday, I was down in Lo Espejo all day. I had been invited to judge the fifth-grade Spelling Bee.

Every year, the network of schools that includes my "old" school has a Spelling Bee. Fifth-graders from each of their elementary schools participate.

I took the train down to my old school and rode with the teacher and kids to the school in Lo Espejo where the Bee is held. As expected, they were nervous. The entire school was buzzing with nervous energy as fifth-graders from about 12 schools were milling around in groups, doing last-minute word reviews, etc.

There were three participants from each school. They were separated into three groups and we held the first round, the elimination round. When we were down to four students, we stopped. Those would go on to the final round.

I had never been a Spelling Bee judge before, but my part was easy. I just had to call out the words and announce the spelling "Correct" or "Sorry, incorrect" as I watched little faces light up or crumple.

There were 200 words in all. Neck in neck, those kids recited those words like well-oiled machines until we were down to the final three contestants. One boy misspelled "Turkish" and, then, there were two. Danilo and Benjamín duked it out, spelling "together" and "firefighter," "Belgium" and "Belgian," "Argentinian" and "thunderstorm."

They blew through the entire list. So, as a tie-breaker, we had to go to the list of "special words," the ones that the kids had not been given in advance. Benjamín went first.

"Sandwich." S-A-N-D-W-I-C-H. "Sandwich."

"That is correct."

With a sinking feeling, I called out, "Danilo, your word is 'scissors.'"

"Could you repeat?" I repeated it again and again, but with its silent "c," Danilo was tripped up.

Benjamín took home first place and a tearful Danilo, second place.

One of the other judges commented to me that those "special words" seemed unfair because "sandwich" is an easier word to spell plus it's on many menus here in Chile. "Scissors" is much harder. I nodded in agreement, but in the end it's luck of the draw. And all of those kids are winners, simply for participating.

Desigual

Last week, at school, I was approached right off the bat by two of the students from 3B. One of them was holding a cake pan in one hand with about two-thirds of the cake already gone. In her other hand, she held a serrated-edged knife.

She offered me a piece of cake for 500 pesos. Then she explained that they were selling slices of cake to collect money for a classmate who had had emergency surgery. Her family cannot pay the hospital bill. So these kids were selling cake to try and help her.

They had also organized an impromptu garage sale. They had tables lined up in the patio and were selling second-hand clothing. I bought a fuzzy scarf and a pair of black stretchy pants that I think I can use for exercising. Everything else was too small.

It was both heart-warming and heart-breaking that these kids so desperately wanted to help their classmate that they were trying in the only ways they knew how to do it.

In the other 11th grade, the kids had already gone downstairs to practice their musical numbers when an inspector came in and said that they all had to return. Someone ran to get them. When everyone was assembled, he told them why he had called them back. One of their classmates is refusing to come back to school. Why? Because as a tall, stout, nerdy, bespectacled boy, he has been the victim of bullying. I have never seen bullying in this class and I'm hoping that it isn't any of "my" kids who are doing it.

Nevertheless, someone at school has been making fun of Roberto*. So much so that he is too depressed and miserable to return to school. The inspector lectured the kids about bullying and asked that they consider visiting Roberto at home. Apparently, he lives very near the school. As the inspector left the classroom, all the kids were in agreement that they'd like to go and visit him, but I wondered how many of them would do it. As soon as class was over, it would be easy to forget all about Roberto.

This broke my heart for a different reason.

And my third heartbreak came when I read the news about the SIMCE scores. SIMCE is a standardized test here in Chile. The results were clearly divided by socio-economic levels. In the English part of the SIMCE tests, 83% of the children who come from upper class families were awarded a certificate of English competency. Among children from poor families, only 8% passed the English competency test.

I am not volunteering in a school where children come from upper class families. "My" kids are from low income families. They are among the 8%. That means that 92% of my students aren't really learning English. It's not that they can't learn. It's not that they don't want to learn. The thing is that they don't have the same opportunities as their more affluent countrymen. Less resources, fewer capable teachers, too many students in each classroom, and antiquated teaching methods all add up to a 92% failure rate.

Guess I could look at the 8%, the glass half full. Well, in this case, a little less than 1/12 full. But though I'm a native English speaker, there is no way to express how angry, sad, and frustrated this statistic makes me......


*not his real name

E.T., phone home

If only it were that easy.

I've always been confounded by the Chilean phone system, but recently, a "2" was added in front of all landline numbers, nationwide. Or so I thought.

In Chile, as in the US, landline numbers have....oops, make that had.....seven digits. To dial them from a cell phone or from overseas, you had to put a "2" in front of the number.

Now, with the addition of a "2" already, we gringo-types are confused all over again. If you're dialing from a cell phone, do you now need to dial two "2's"?

In a Facebook group for (mostly) gringos, the conversation went something like this:

Gringo #1: How do I dial a landline in Chile through Skype? I can't get it to go through using that new "2".

Gringo #2: Now, you have to put two "2's" plus the phone number.

Gringo #3: I tried that. It still doesn't work. It's a freaking nightmare.

Gringo #4: I solved the problem. I just put a "0" in front of the "2".

Gringo #3: Which "2"?

Gringo #4: The first one, silly.

Gringo #5: But what about from a cell phone?

Gringo #2: 2 + 2 + the landline number.

Gringo #4: No, 0 + 2 + 2.

Gringo #3: And if I'm calling outside Santiago?

Gringo #2: I think it's still the same, just add the new "2" in front of whatever the number used to be.

Gringo # 6: Hey, I live down south. My number hasn't changed. You don't have to add the new "2".

Gringo #3: Are you sure?

Gringo #6: I just called myself from my cell phone and it worked.

Gringo #7: And what about calling from a cell phone to another cell phone?

Gringo #2: Well, sometimes you have to add a "9" in front of the eight-digit number........

And so it goes. If you're wondering why you haven't heard from So-and-So lately, it might be because s/he simply can't figure out the Chilean phone system. ¡Suerte!

Ya se chilenizó

As the bus pulled away in Villa Alemana, my seat mate and I watched as my gringa friend stood on the sidewalk, waving at me until the bus turned the corner and we could no longer see her. When we were out of her sight, he turned to me and wryly commented, "Ya, se chilenizó."

She's already "Chilean-ized." I had to laugh at that. In truth, my grandma used to do the same. She would wave goodbye until I couldn't see her any more.....and she'd never been to Chile. Maybe it's an old-fashioned thing or just a lovely gesture, but it started me thinking about living in Chile and some of the strange (to outsiders) customs that I might, or might not, admit to having adopted.

Podría ser que ya se chilenizó si, you might have chileanized if:

You run for home if the first raindrop falls.

You buy the giant, economy-sized artificial sweetener so that you can use it in your coffee while you're eating your tooth-achingly sweet dessert.

When you get on the bus and realize your BIP card is out of money, you shrug, say "Permiso," and walk past the driver, only feeling the tiniest bit of shame.

You think nothing of holding your purse on your lap while dining out, as if it were a precious three-year old, because you don't dare leave it on the seat next to you.

Your old towel gets ruined in the wash and you decide it would make the perfect new mop. Tied onto your old broom, of course.

You wouldn't consider using a cup without a saucer and, meanwhile, your big-handled coffee mugs sit gathering dust.

You believe that colds are the result of rapidly changing temperatures, not germs, and no one can convince you differently.

You come for lunch and stay for once.

You know that, if you've missed a phone call, it's your responsibility to call them back because they will not call again. And you never even think of leaving a message.

You refer to your hot water bottle as "mi amor" because you never go to bed without it during June, July, and August.

You run all over town searching for a birthday gift to take to the party, no matter how old the birthday person is, because well, showing up without one is just not done.

You've learned to love marraqueta and bland food and consider chopped iceberg lettuce a "salad."

On your birthday, you have to throw your own party and pay for it too, not the other way 'round.

When the temperature dips below 70, you walk the streets in your winter coat, muttering, "Helado, helado....."


I'm sure there are many others and I'd love to hear some of yours. Please feel free to comment.

Hoarding

I am a hoarder. There, I just said it.

I never used to be a hoarder, but Lider (or maybe it's universal here in Chile) is turning me into one. When I go into the store, looking for......let's say.....the "good" coffee, and the shelf is bare, I'm always grateful if I've had the foresight to put it on the shopping list before I've actually run out of it.

Chile has taught me well and I'm learning the hard way. If you see it, buy it! Because if you don't, it could be weeks and weeks before you see it again. This is the reason I have three packets of coffee in my freezer, two sleeves of whole wheat crackers and two tins of Salt & Vinegar Chips in the cupboard, an extra block of Cheddar cheese in the fridge. You get the idea.

M.I.A. at the moment are my beloved "giant corn nuts" from Perú. Super-crunchy, super-salty, they are perfect for snacking. Lider has been out of them for at least a month. I don't know who orders these things nor why it's not more consistent. It's another of those "Chilean mysteries."

But one thing is certain, when the corn nuts appear again, half a dozen bags will come home with me. The rest of you will have to fend for yourselves.

Lately, I've noticed many bare shelves at Lider. At first, I thought it was because I was there on a Monday and they hadn't restocked. Or because it had been a holiday and they hadn't restocked. I'm convinced that they never restock overnight, only during the daytime when it is the busiest. Couldn't they sell more stuff if they already had it out on the shelves?!

The other day when I went in, the meat shelves were nearly empty. Only a few lonely packets of pork remained.

Since this wasn't too uncommon, I didn't give it much thought. "Pork, it is!" But when I turned the corner and discovered the mostly-empty pasta shelf, and around another corner, the bare vegetable oil shelf, I stopped to ask an employee what was going on.

"Inventario," he replied with a shrug. Ah, yes. A little tinkling in the back of my mind reminded me of last year and the year before when they do inventory. Instead of restocking as things run down, they keep things boxed in the warehouse until after inventory. Much easier to count boxes than item-by-item. That's for sure, but woe to the customer who has run out of coffee or eggs or T.P.......

You've been warned

Back in 2008 when I first visited Chile, I was warned not to wear flashy jewelry or to show expensive electronics. Every time I visited, I heard the same message over and over again. Even after I moved here two years ago, people were still warning me. At first, I had chalked it up to Chileans being alarmists......

Until I was pick-pocketed back in 2009 on a visit here. After that, I became more cautious. I don't own any fancy jewelry and I don't carry around any electronics. I walk around with very little cash and I try to be vigilant when I use the ATM. When I'm eating out, my purse is on my lap. If someone gets "too close" for no good reason, I move away immediately. I own the plainest, "dumbest" phone there is.

During my first visits here, I noticed that people never showed their electronics. All you would see were earbuds and their trailing wires which always disappeared inside clothing. Lately, this has changed a lot. I don't know if crime is lower or if Chileans are just letting down their guard or what, but people walk around now openly staring at their smartphones, fiddling with their IPods, reading on their tablets, etc.

So, when I got on the bus after choir practice, I didn't think anything of it when several people around me had their electronics in plain sight. Usually, there aren't many people riding the bus from Ñuñoa back downtown at 9:30 at night. I'm one of about half a dozen. Last time, the bus was nearly full. I got the second-to-last seat.

I was almost home when the drama started. At the stop before mine, the back door of the bus swung open. At first, no one tried to exit. Then, all of a sudden just as the door started to close, a chubby teen in too-tight jeans jumped up and starting shoving her way down the aisle, followed closely by a young man. As she leaped off the bus, another young man appeared out of nowhere on the sidewalk. He grabbed at the door just before it fully closed and yanked it back open.

Fare-jumpers often board the bus by the back doors and, at first, I thought that was what he was going to do. Instead, he held the door just long enough for the man on the bus to snatch an IPod out of a startled young woman's hands and jump off the bus. Like lightning, the door closed behind him. He was gone and so was the IPod.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed a soundless "Oh" as the, now-IPod-less, young woman rose halfway out of her seat, but she was too late. It was over before any of us had fully realized what had happened. Not that there was anything we could have done and Chileans are known for nonintervention in this sort of thing. Defeated, she flopped back into her seat and slumped down.

Sometimes I toy with the idea of taking some music or an e-reader with me in my travels around town. Now, I'm thinking that I'm better off sticking with my spiral notepad. If I have extra time, I just start writing or sketching and I doubt anyone's interested in stealing my scribbles or doodles.

Día del Trabajador 2013

Today is Día del Trabajador here in Chile where the workers actually get a day off for Labor Day. In honor of it, here is a repost of my story from last year.

Día del Trabajador, the day when all the Chilean workers go home and relax with their families. And all the gringos are bored, left with nothing to do. A Facebook group conversation among gringos this morning started out like this:
Hey, what's open today?

Starbucks? Wanna meet at Starbucks?

No, I hate Starbucks. Is Wonderful open?

Hey, does anybody know if Wonderful is open?

No, Wonderful is closed. I was just over there. LaStarria is deserted.

Well, maybe not completely deserted. Turns out that not everything is closed. Peruvian places, the Basque-owned restaurant on the corner, the pastry shop across the street, all supposedly must be manned by the owner in order to be open on Labor Day.

To my surprise, my peluquero had agreed to cut my hair today. When I left home and hopped on the bus around 11:00, the local ice cream shop and most of the restaurants near the Metro were pulling open their metal security gates.

I doubt that they are all owner-operated, but this is a touristy area, and bless their little capitalist hearts, they're going to make hay while the sun shines.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, there was a huge march in support of workers' rights. According to The Santiago Times, "Legislation that would have raised the minimum wage to US$438 was rejected by the Senate last month."

I don't know how someone can live on $438 per month anywhere, but especially not in Santiago. This minimum wage seems incomprehensible to me. So it's no wonder that an estimated 150,000 people took to the streets to support workers on this Labor Day.

Standing at the bus stop after my haircut, another woman waiting there made the comment, "Mira, ¡tanta gente!", as she pointed in a direction behind me.

I turned to see an enormous crowd of people surging toward us. My bus arrived before the protesters reached our corner. The driver wisely took an alternate route, but as we whizzed down a parallel street, I could see glimpses of the protest around Plaza Brasil, complete with water cannons and tear gas.

I can understand why people here protest a lot. But nothing much seems to change.