One thing that I have noticed while experiencing the wonders of our native cousin’s land is of course their media influences. The UKs biggest and most influential media outlet is the BBC, focusing on mainly radio and televised programming. Unlike the US the BBC is subsidised by the British tax payer in the form of TV licensing, therefore this provides the financial security to develop some truly inspirational shows such as planet earth without the fear of it not attracting major audiences. This also goes for the BBC radio stations, meaning less advertising and more music or discussion. The British I have found are quite fond of discussion which combined with their unique sense of odd humour explains for the various radio stations the BBC has to offer. Not only this but the BBC also has various ethnic stations to cater for the cultural differences of the UK which like the US has been due to the cause of immigration for economic stability.

Due to the impact of being a relatively small nation whose main media outlet is half owned by the public results in national icons with long-standing history being almost completely unknown to the outsider i.e. Bruce Forsyth. The British also have a large amount of American programmes available via digital television or sky which is the U.S. equivalent to Cable. To me being a fellow American, these shows are awfully dated, many seasons behind and almost constantly repeated, yet are continually watched. A few examples are Friends, Scrubs, and the Hills. This in turn is quite funny yet tiresome to have people discuss what might happen in the future of the show when I’ve already seen the debated conclusion at home in the US.

In a way, I feel right at home when I turn the T.V. on in the U.K. This month on the music channel, throughout the month of May they are only playing American music calling the special the U.S. of May. Another consequence of this American media appeal, is a boxed or packaged America for the consumer (i.e. the British person at home watching) as television sub channels compete for viewings. This of course results, in a parade of (in my opinion) poor shows such as, sweet 16, the simple life and so on which projects an extreme consumer based version of my country, creating a stereotyped image of American people that isn’t accurate.

With saying all of this, I want to make it clear that I love BBC and all of the great British television shows that it produces. I find it comforting to know when I am homesick, I can turn on the T.V. in the U.K. and find Friends or Scrubs that I always watched back home. So in a way it is nice to find American shows and music on television, but yet again it’s still nice to see new shows.

The last two weeks have been jam-packed with school work, sports and volunteer work but have been so much fun because of all the excitement. Monday nights I scrimmage with the Woman’s Futsal team after 3 classes and Woman’s Soccer training-which I have to add that for Futsal I scored two big time goals on Monday to help lead the team to victory! Tuesdays I have been consistently going to the Evolution Thai Boxing gym which is just across the street from the main side of the U.C.R. I knew that when I first saw that gym and all those people running by with hand-wraps on, that it was more than just coincidence-it was destiny! So for under thirty bucks, I get to go to as many training sessions as I can handle in a month. They offer sessions Monday through Saturday five times a day with Yoga two days a week as an option. If that wasn’t enough, today they organized a trip with all the coaches and students from the gym to go paintballing, so naturally I went. It was the first time I had ever been paintballing but I had always wanted to go. I love everything that is part of extreme sports so I was more than ready. It was tons of fun and although I had a lot of new words to learn and tactics to learn, I survived and had an amazing time. I met a ton of people from the gym and got more immersed into the culture with the trip.

Wednesdays I volunteer at a local elementary school, Dante Alighieri, with 3rd and 4th graders, teaching them the game of Futsal, or Soccer five-asides. When I first visited the school, I learned immediately that they didn’t have any physical education program whatsoever, to add to that, they didn’t have any sports equipment like soccer balls at the school. To me, this was a huge thing because personally, I gained many of the values and learned many of my best lessons in the context of sports- soccer specifically. My sense of pride, leadership, co-dependency and loyalty all developed over my years of playing soccer. For a couple hours every week I train with third and fourth graders the art of “Futbol 5.” We started from the basics and are starting to move into team dynamics which is a lot more fun for the kids who get to play more. Its amazing to see how eager these kids are to learn and to play soccer-girls and boys. The first day of classes, I had 14 boys and girls from 4th and 26 from 3rd! I had one ball and had to be really creative with 26 kids under my sole supervision on a concrete soccer field smack in the direct middle of all the classrooms! Anyways, I’m learning as much as the kids are on Wednesdays, everything from coaching, discipline, pronunciation and new vocabulary! Some times I even go to the Evolution Thai Boxing gym later that day to work out all the accumulated frustrations from trying to coach a bunch of 10 and 11 year olds!

Fridays and Saturdays I usually manage to make it to a session of Thai Boxing because Im eager to learn all the new movies and techniques and to one day perfect them. We have learned everything from how to punch, kick, knee and elbow the opponent in various combinations. Also just recently started doing a little light sparring with the coach so he can tell you exactly what to work on. My first time was kind of a blur…probably because for every punch or kick I tried to deliever (key word: tried), I recieved a kick to the thigh or a light punch to the face! Talk about learning your lession- always keep your hands up protecting your face! The last few sessions we also got to learn how to break head-locks and how to throw your opponent onto the mat (that one still needs a lot of work) but the variation of activities keeps me going back excited for a brand new, exciting lesson. Friday this week is altogether different but just as exhilirating, or more! The exchange students from the univeristy will be playing a 5 v 5 ‘’Futbol 5’’ game aganist the Human Resources department on this indoor sinthetic field named ‘’El Cuchifrito.’’ I couldn’t be more exicted because two weeks ago, before I played, the two teams met and the exchange students’ team lost 20-9. That only means one thing to me, this time, I know that I am up for the challenge, the rematch, or as they say here ‘’la revancha!’’

Hola, como estai? Bien, po’. Cachai? Needless to say, with all the slang in Chile, I have definitely added to my castellano vocabulary. But beyond the mere language, living in Chile has truly taught me a lot about my life and the way others live, as cheesy as that sounds.

My host family is relatively small (I have a host mom and a host sister), and I feel so lucky to have been placed with this family. My host mom, Monica, treats me like her own daughter, and we really do spend a lot of time together. Right now she is teaching me how to knit. She is very artistic, and she actually knits quite a few of her own clothes. She is always concerned about the well-being of others, and she has a positive outlook on life, no matter what is going on in her own life. Ten fe (Have faith). When I go back to the United States, I will always remember her saying this to me.

But in other news… what has been going? Well this weekend I went camping in Cajon del Maipo. Actually it was just for one night because it was too cold to stay for two nights. But regardless, it was an interesting adventure. Between the glaciers, lagunas, and rolling hills, the scenery was absolutely spectacular. My only critique is of the false advertising, in my opinion, of the thermal baths. From all the minerals, the two pools were a murky brown color and were terribly cold. But other than that, I had an amazing time this weekend. When I looked in one direction, I saw the snow-covered mountains (just like the Swiss Alps!), and when I looked in the other direction, I saw mountains with all different colors due to the mineral deposits within. Oh and did I mention that I saw a volcano too? The thing is, considering the geography of the country (longest north-south country in the world), there a number of different climates in Chile. In the north there is the driest desert in the world (Atacama), and in the South there are… (hmm… where to start?) snowy mountains, glaciers, forests, volcanoes, lakes, and much more. But there is no way I can do justice to the beauty of this country with a simple description. One must come to this country to experience the marvels of Chile.

Oh yeah, and there’s school. To be honest, my classes have been taking up most of my time lately. Between papers and quizzes, there is quite a bit of work to do. But I am trying to get organized, and I don’t want to bore anyone with the mundane details of my classes.

As for now, I need to start working on an activity to do with my students in the English Opens Doors program. I am working with a group of seniors in high school, and not only are there limited resources for teaching in this school, but there is also limited desire to learn English. Nevertheless, I am hoping I can at least instill a desire within them to learn English.

Until next time…

Besitos,

Megi

How did the time go by so fast?! I only have 4 weeks left in the U.K. and I seriously feel like I just got here even though I’ve experienced and learned so much. The one part about this experience in the U.K. that means the most to me are the people and their camaraderie that they showed me.

One stereotype of the British is that they are very polite which I found to be true, but its not just a way they act in public to be respectful of others. They are genuinely nice and caring people. This is at least the case for me and for the friends that I’ve made while studying at University.

I couldn’t get over the fact of how caring and thoughtful people are here. Their general willingness to help others is far greater than what I experienced while living in the U.S. America has an overall individualistic culture where everyone has the general belief that they don’t need anyone’s help to get through the day where Britain has a more collectivist nature in the sense that they do offer help to others expecting the same treatment in return. When I speak to my friends, I feel like they are truly interested in what I have to say instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. My friends and peers look after one another, knowing that without each other, getting through the day would be a lot harder.

Being around very considerate people that count on each other’s support has made me feel differently about the individualistic attitude where it is believed that I could get by on my own. I feel the overall willingness to help others has increased the amount of kindliness among British people which is a much more pleasant environment to live in.

After mountaineering, I returned to Dunedin with a pile of homework waiting for me.  I destroyed it, while at the same time trying to plan for the next week.  Three days after I returned, my family flew in to Dunedin to share New Zealand with me.  It was a surreal feeling to walk down Dunedin’s main street to find my dad and little sister waiting there for me.  It was the collision of two worlds.  But it was just as if I’d left them the day before.  We talked and walked through the pouring rain as I showed them Dunedin.  It was a gorgeous sight to see my family in my flat, or my lecture, or Velvet Burger (high-class NZ burger joint).  We wasted no time at all, first driving up to a mountain overlook of the city then driving up the coast to the climb all over the bizzarely spherical beach rocks known as the Moeraki Boulders.
The next day we left the rainy city, continually encouraging the drivers to resist the temptation to drift back into familiarity, which in our case was the right side of the road.  We headed to Curio Bay, a petrified forest where we watched yellow-eyed penguins waddle up the beach to feed their young.  That night we made the mistake of ending up short-handed with provisions in (extremely) rural New Zealand, and ended up eating at a hokey country pub.  Awkward as it began, it gave us the opportunity to connect with a local farmer who had us over to his house and showed us around his farm the next day.  Some day I hope to return to hang out with the Callahans.
After the Catlins we made for Te Anau, where we simultaneously enjoyed the wonders of fine food and Fiordland.  A necessary part of any New Zealand pilgrimage is visiting Milford Sound, and we certainly fulfilled this duty.  My dad treated us to an overnight cruise of the fiord, an experience complete with gorgeous sights of looming cliffs and waterfalls and lush green bush, kayaking, card games, and more food than was possible even to sample.  In the morning the skies broke from rain and showed us the other half of Fiordland’s split personality – tall, sharp peaks of deep green and bluish white.  Next was Queenstown, where we settled into cozy bed and breakfast after some time in the sparkling city.  One incident was so positively hilarious that I can’t refrain from mentioning it.  The best views of the city and surrounding area are seen from an elevated spot called Deer Park Hill, so we went there in the evening.  After watching the sun cast its final rays upon the Remarkables range (aptly named), we drove out, noting that the Hill was also well-named.  Coming from Nebraska, I have certainly seen deer before, but these around us were not the least bit flighty.  One stood just by the side of the road as we approached it in the car with windows down.  My little sister was riding in the front seat, staring it down.  It returned her gaze, but with the goofiest and dumbest looking expression I have ever seen an animal make.  We rolled forward until my sister could have punched it, and by that time we were in uproarious laughter.  The deer just grinned back at us, which further elevated the hilarity.  At last the comedian ran off, no doubt satisfied with its scrutiny of my little sister’s face.
Unlike most people, we took our most relaxing days in Queenstown.  The next day we sampled an unconquerable breakfast before riding up the touristy gondola.  At the top are a couple of racing tracks called the Luge.  It was fun enough to evoke our wholehearted agreement with its motto that, ‘Once is never enough.’  Later that day, my father bungy jumped the AJ-Hackett bridge, the site of the first bungy jumping experiments.  I heard a lot of comments about my father’s awesomeness for jumping even with over 50 years of wisdom stacked up.  After, my mother flew back, and my little sister, my father, and I drove through the remarkable, dry, sharp mountains.  The golden colo(u)r of the surrounding tussock grass made it seem like a vast autumn paradise covered in newly-fallen leaves.  We drove straight through Wanaka, regretfully, for Wanaka rivals Queenstown for mountain glory.  But our goal far surpassed both.
We drove up the west coast, passing from shrub to bush to rainforest.  The West side of the Southern Alps come impossibly close to the Tasman sea at this spot, which causes a great amount of water to fall at these spots.  This is also the high country of Mt. Cook and miles of glaciers.  Two of the glaciers actually descend down into the rainforest, shooting down the tall valley remarkably close to the sea.  Our heli-hike got cancelled, but we got to take a helicoptor tour of the two glaciers and the place they call Godland.  I spotted Pioneer Hut and Lendenfeld Peak, and said a final goodbye to Mt. Tasman.  From there we skirted up the rest of the West Coast, seeing only the pancake-stack-shaped rocks at Punekaiki along the way.  At length we reached Abel Tasman, a place widely reputed as a destination.  Our first of two day there was dominated by an eight hour tramp, for which I owe many thanks and perhaps an apology to my dad and little sister.  The wonder of Abel Tasman is aquatic.  The bush comes right down to the edge of the water, occasionally cut just short by a wide, pristine beach.  Such wonder is present at a place like that, and it’s clear that a thousand incredible nooks, viewpoints, and sand islands escape you in such a short time.
We certainly did have our fair share of adventure, however.  The route of the track is dependent on tide, and at one point we just skirted the limit time for crossing an estuary.  I carried my little sister on my shoulder as I waded through the thigh-deep water, beating the tide by the slimmest margin of time.  We watched as the whole bay began quickly filling with water.  My dad watched a small arm of water grow, widen, join another arm, and cover his feet in water in just a few minutes.  When we finished the damp tramp that night near sundown, we were picked up the perfectly arced stretch of sand called Anchorage onto a floating backpacker’s to spend the night.  Once aboard, I heard voices from inside say, “Is that Ryan?”, and I looked in to find several of my flatmates playing cards.  It was a wonderful coincidence, as my father and sister got to meet them, and I got a ride home.
The next day we went straight to Nelson, where we had one last lunch and walk together.  But nothing gold can stay.  When we went to the airport, and I saw them off, I knew that the tide had come in.  I haven’t experienced deep and regretful homesickness in New Zealand, but there certainly was an unspoken beckoning to follow them back to the States that day.  Our time together was a beautiful thing, and I savored every moment, every laugh, every conversation. Just today I got an encouraging card from my mom, assuring me that those same feelings were reciprocated.
I’ll have to wait another month for the tide to come in.  But it will.  My brother is due to arrive in five weeks, and I anticipate my time with him every bit as much as with the other members of my family.  Don’t worry, you’ll hear about it.

Are we there yet? Ya llegamos?… After six hours on a bus, we had finally reached our destination: La Serena.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and I was just waking up from a nap on the bus. To be honest, I was quite tired because my mom, brother-in-law, sister, and her friend came to visit me the previous week. I was very excited to see them, and they had a great time sightseeing, sampling the local cuisine, and exploring the nightlife of Chile. Among other things, I took them to Los Dominicos Handicraft Village, Bellavista, Cerro San Cristobal, and La Moneda. La Moneda is essentially the White House of Chile. The only difference is that no one lives there, not even the President, Michelle Bachelet (yes, Chile elected a female president before the United States). Actually, Chilean history is quite interesting, but if you’re not in the mood for a brief history lesson at the moment, please skip the following paragraphs:

Just as the ”Honeymoon” period in a new country comes to an end within the first month or so of being there, exams begin after about the first month of classes. After an exhilarating week up at Tamarindo, what better to welcome me home than a two question formatted exams in Systems of Investigation and Judicial Reasoning?

I can’t say that there is anything more refreshing to bring me back into study mode than that. What was I up against? 30 percent, two questions, open book, thought-provoking concepts…etc. Once again, I feel like I did on the first day of classes, nervous and uncertain with a rush of questions circulating through my mind-was I ready? Could I do well-in Spanish? Did I know the material? Exam day comes up, I had thoroughly gone through my notes and readings beforehand and I felt pretty confident. I flipped over the white sheet to face my fear and I was relieved, I actually understood the questions and concepts of the prompts. I still had tons of work to do but I had taken one step forward. The exam took me the entire 1 hour and 50 minutes to complete, but I felt like I did alright. The true test will be when the exam is returned to me…so until then, let me enjoy my peace!

This week was Semana Universitaria (University Week) where there are tons of things to do from bull riding to playing street soccer. As I walked around this week, I saw about 5 different street soccer tournaments, a full soccer game, a mechanical bull, paintballing, jugglers, musicians, concerts, jewelry and clothes being sold, tons of food, candy and students. Students filling the main quad in the front of the university, filling the passage ways between buildings for music and events and soccer and students filling the bars and dance clubs. The highlight of the week is that although some classes are still being held, the professors are not allowed to have exams! That was a relief for me to hear, I would get another break before my next big test…

The tale does not end just yet because low and behold, next week I have another exam, only this time, in Introduction to Law. This should be equally amusing with 4 open-ended questions on about 5 chapters and 6 weeks of notes that accounts for 30 percent of my final grade! Wish me luck! Amazingly, I think I will be ready for it…

While studying at Cardiff University, I couldn’t help but compare the U.K. and U.S. education systems. The two nations hold many differences in their approach to teach students from the lecturing styles, testing methods, and the overall level of independence that the student is given. I have found with my own personal experience that the differences are in favor of the U.K. system in my belief.

The first difference that I noticed right away was how often I have to go to lectures for one class. In the U.S., on average for one class I go to a lecture three times a week, where in the U.K. there’s only one lecture a week. The Universities in the U.K. make this work by giving the students an extensive reading list that they are expected to go through on their own time.

When I went to classes at my home University, I had a variety of classes to choose from but once I was in the class, I was given one book and told exactly what was going to be on the multiple choice test that would be given to me in about three weeks time. This is extremely different to the U.K. in the fact that the Universities give more freedom on what the student can focus his or her main studying on and what approach he or she can take with the one examination time at the end of the semester. At Cardiff University and other U.K. Universities like it, you are compelled to become a scholar. I personally have gone to the library everyday I’m on campus to find books I want to read concerning the coursework that’s at hand. In every class I have taken at Cardiff, I am given an extensive reading list which is a guideline to what materials I should be researching on my own time. This gives me the freedom to choose which researchers and theorists I want to read about in depth and inevitably write about in my essay examination.

The testing method that is used by the majority of instructors in the U.K. is the essay format. With this format, the student is given a selection of about three to five questions where they usually only have to answer one in their essay giving them once again freedom to choose the actual material they are tested on at the end of the semester. Writing an essay on the course work requires the student to understand the material thoroughly. With this, the student is more likely to remember what he or she has learned and use this newly gained knowledge in the future. In contrast, the amount of material that is covered on multiple choice exams that’s given to students in the U.S. on a weekly basis doesn’t have the same affect. With the amount of testing and material we are expected to know, I feel student’s like myself are pressured into memorizing the material rather than actually grasping the concepts of the matter.

In my opinion, Universities across the U.K. treat the students more as adults and the amount of knowledge a student obtains while at University is solely up to the student. At Cardiff University, the students are trusted that they will do the independent reading and attend the lectures and seminars. If the student chooses not to do this, it’s the student’s own education that’s at risk and this will be reflected in the student’s grades. This is basically common knowledge in the U.K., but in the U.S. it’s a slightly different story.

In my U.S. classes, mandatory attendance is taken every time I go to class. If I don’t go to class everyday I will be penalized. I am given a book or two and am shown exactly what I need to know for the exam. Having mandatory classes three times a week and four exams throughout the semester, I feel as if we are being checked up on, to make sure that we are actually doing are studying. The freedom and trust that the U.K. education system gives the student I feel is not there in the U.S. Also, I don’t feel motivated to be a scholar and go to the library to read in depth on certain course material because an A is very achievable on exams without doing this. I am given the book that holds the material that all of my testing will be on in class so there is no point in checking out books from the library to research different takes on the subject. I’ve never once had to check out a book at my college’s library in the U.S. but now that I’ve been at Cardiff, I’ve checked out about thirty books and counting.

Overall, I would say I do prefer the U.K. education system over the U.S.’s. The amount of freedom and independent studying Cardiff University allows me to have is working really well so far. I feel like I am treated more as an adult in the sense that my education lies in my hands only. Because of this, I am really interested in getting a Master’s Degree in the U.K. sometime in the near future, knowing that it would only take half the time as well.

Thanks to the U.K. education system, I have realized that a library serves a higher purpose than just providing a quiet place to study. It’s in fact a place that holds many valuable resources in the form of text that can better anyone’s education. Who knew?

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve written of my travels, or more precisely, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve had time to sit down.  For a short time, life in Dunedin began to approach a routine, and I started to get pretty comfortable with balancing the demands upon me, which are far from burdensome.  Only three classes are required of me, since Otago classes count as 4.5 US hours apiece.  With this rather light workload, I was loving life with plenty of time for my first loves, God and people.  I talked in ‘Faces in the Fire’ about some of my good friends – and people are being added to that list constantly.

But if you’ve been reading this blog you know that I crave adventure.  An irresistable thought came to mind: what if I try to break into the alpine?  I considered just going with some people, but the mountain heights are far more dangerous than I knew; and I knew at least that.  So I investigated the mountaineering courses, available, and came up with one.  Setting aside a few days of school, I decided to go for it, which was truly a last minute decision.  Three classes suddenly became too much, as I rushed to finish assignments early in order to leave.

On a Sunday, after a great service and a good time of fellowship with friends, I took a bus to Wanaka, where I stayed at a backpackers.  The next day, I met Paul, my guide, and we discussed what range would best foster my learning.  We settled on the West Coast, where the Southern Alps come so close to the sea that the terminal moraine of Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers rests out in the water (both glaciers also descend down into the rainforest – quite a spectacle!).  We drove out, but the weather was bad that night, so we had to sleep in town.  The next morning, just as my guide predicted, the sky cleared to crystal, and we flew up.  That first day was filled with instruction on all kinds of stuff, but one thing in particular stood out.  Mountaineering often involves glacier travel, and in our case we were surrounded completely by endless rolling hills of white – a Great Plain of Ice.  The glaciers flow downhill just like their liquid cousins, so areas of expansion cause massive cracks to open in the ice, called crevasses.  These go very deep into the ice, and falling in one is an extreme hazard – I can’t even tell of how many stories I heard from Paul of harrowing falls, all, of course, due to bad decisions or inadequate protection.  But an important part of protecting yourself is to be able to pull yourself out of the crevasse when hanging on a rope.  Although the occasion is exceedingly rare given proper risk management, it’s a necessary skill.  So Paul picked a crevasse right next to the hut and lowered me down into it.  Before going down, I had no idea how big it was, so when I saw the fifty meter drop into nothingness, I gave a shout like I had just been poked with a hot poker.  The sheer beauty of this marvel was equal only to its terror; gravity suddenly became a taunt.  The snowy designs of the lip descended down precipitous icy slopes until the fissure was narrower than I could have descended into.  It was at least a minute before the smile returned to my face, but I eventually relaxed, trusted the rope, and prussiked myself out.

The next day was early – up at 5:30, out at 7.  We descended down a steep slope then walked along Explorer Glacier – carefully – for an hour until we reached the base of Glacier Peak.  As we walked we watched the sun glimpse over the Main Divide of the Southern Alps.  We headed up the slope, doing some pitch climbing and some soloing (short-roped, for the time).  The slope looked utterly impassable, but we snaked a path around huge crevasses, even crossing one on the debris from a large icefall.  At one point, we ran into a huge ice overhang which threatened to send us back from where we came.  But at last we climbed just over 3000 meters to the peak.  Glacier Peak is along the Main Divide, so as we walked out onto the massive corniced peak the whole of the Central South Island came into view.  Mountains reached as far as I could see – further, in fact.  To the West was the Tasman Sea, seperated from us by perfect white and lush green.  We descended, ate lunch, and lost a glove to a crevasse along the way.  But that was a small loss compared to the knowledge and experience I had gotten.  We walked along the seemingly endless white, and I wondered that I really was in such a fantastic place.

The day after that was earlier yet – up at 4, out at 5:30.  This time when we left, the stars were still clear in a black night sky.  Walking along the glaciers that morning was quite surreal, with the formless shadows of mountains surrounding me and a directionless trudge toward Marcel Col.  On the way, we were forced to cross a significant rockfall.  Even as we watched, rocks came hurtling down the hill with frightening speed.  One was as big as a basketball.  The pace quickened for a minute – but hurrying is never advisable.  In time we were in position to begin the climb.  The route was straightforward but still intimidating.  A steep slope twisted steeper and steeper until flattening out at the top.  At first I was completely overwhelmed, but with time and height covered we reached the summit.  Lendenfeld Peak is around 3150 meters high, so we could see ever further.  Paul got out a satellite phone, and to my astonishment, called the office from the most remote place I have ever been at.  Another great summit, which would be my last of the trip.  We went back past the rockfall and across the hot glaciers in the afternoon sun in as little as we could, which was still alot, to prevent sunburn.  I found it interesting that the most warm clothing I ever needed was chilling in the hut at night and in the morning.

Of all the places I have gotten to see and be a part of in New Zealand, this place is surely the best.  A poster in our hut called it ‘Godland’ and I must totally agree. The majesty of the high mountains, which is present in many places around the world, and the chaotic perfection of it makes its slopes the Boulevards of Paradise.  Even more striking is their silent solemnity.  As I listened to Paul’s tales of climbs gone good and awry, I looked at the rocky stallions and realized that these have been here, and will be here, and that I and the very few people here are just passerbys.

The rest of the course mainly consisted of instruction and rock climbing, although one key thing was a much smaller peak which I soloed entirely, keeping with the theme of building independence on the mountain.  I returned back somewhat a different person – having seen things beyond what I had ever known, being filled with humility rather than pride.  I can only hope to continue returning to the Boulevards.

Conejitos, conejitos! Huevitos, huevitos! It was finally almost Easter (aka Semana Santa), and the sidewalk was completely packed with vendors selling chocolate bunnies and chocolate eggs. Ironically, in the market on the other side of the street, vendors were selling skinned rabbits, as well as almost every type of seafood you could possibly imagine. After all, this was Valparaíso.

As I looked out into the ocean, I could smell the salt in the air. It was Easter break, and I had come to this city with 9 friends to absorb the culture that is…. Valparaíso. This city is a historic port town, dating back to the 1500s. Even today, Valparaíso remains a beloved city, known for its funiculars and colorful houses in the hills.

Walking through the streets of the city, I could an artistic vibe all around. Around every corner there was another mural on the walls. Even the graffiti, which would normally be considered a defacement of public property, was beautiful. And of course, La Sebastiana, one of Pablo Neruda’s 3 houses in Chile, is located in this city.  Each day, as I was climbing up and down the cerros, I felt a creative inspiration… to draw, to write, anything would do.

This was also a time of bonding with my fellow friends on the study abroad program. Well, with 3 beds, 1 bathroom, and 10 people, there was no other choice but to bond. But we all had a good time, taking turns cooking meals for each other and helping out with household chores (we rented an apartment). Although I must admit that I was relieved to return back to Santiago at the end of the trip.

During this time, we also went to Viña del Mar. This city is also called La Ciudad Jardín, or The Garden City. While it is a neighbor to Valparaiso,  Viña is much more mmm… posh. With beautiful beaches, casinos, festivals, and shopping, it is easy to see why  Viña is such a popular tourist destination. Unfortunately, with the seasons changing, it was too cold to go into the water when we went. Actually it was too cold to even wear a swimsuit— I was curled up on the beach in my fleece and jeans still trying to keep warm.

But I can’t complain. I was in an internationally renowned resort town with my new friends whom I absolutely love. Life is wonderful right now, and I’m always excited to see what tomorrow will bring.