3 Weeks: Sickness, Hitchhiking, and Independence Day

¡Pasó Agosto! There's a saying in Chile that sings to the tune of the passing of August. The welcoming of September means that one has been through the worst of the Chilean winter and has most likely avoided catching winter illness. They also say (well, my host father says) that August is the month in which the most old people die. So for the month to pass instead of your life is quite a relief. However, as you might assume, my gringo-filipino self does not adhere to said saying. Just in time for the weekend, on September 2nd, I got the sickness. I became a prisoner to my bed, entertained by what I had in reach; a book The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, a Pablo Neruda book of poems, and a computer full of pirated movies. I ended up missing all of the following week of classes so that I could fully recover.
After days of doctor recommended 'lots of rest and plenty of fluids' I felt better enough to make a trip to Temuco for a friend's birthday. My friend Johnny Minnesota and I decided to save some money and make our way there by thumb. It may be the case that we were extremely lucky or hitchhiking in Chile is really this easy, but the very first car stopped for us and brought us all the way to Temuco. It was a really nice guy named Pablo who works in paint sales. We arrived with plenty of time to kill so Johnny and I people-watched for a bit and walked around. Temuco is much bigger than Angol. Lots more commotion.

The following week was packed jam with activities. September 18th is when Chile celebrates their independence day. On a partly sunny Tuesday, I had the honor of marching in the school parade through downtown Angol wearing a borrowed brown suede suit jacket. After waiting over an hour, my school, Los Nogales Politécnico, marched a glorious 3 minutes down the sidewalk filled street passing the mayor and other notable Angolinos.

Los Nogales march!

The next day at school, each classroom was ornamented with historical Chilean backgrounds and adorned with tables of traditional foods. Special guests were invited to the event which included a presentation of the cueca (Chile's national dance) by the students. The Cueca is a simply intricate dance involving sequences of turns and fanciful footwork. It also involves vigorous but elegant right-handed revolutions of a handkerchief. Apparently, the dance is intended to mimic a courtship between rooster and hen. Luckily, days before, I had reviewed a cueca youtube video and had a quick lesson by my co-teacher to show off my amateur dance moves. I amazingly stuck the landings and turned appropriately. So much so that several impressed guests told me that I dance the cueca better than most chilenos (though I'm sure it was just a display of their fine southern-chile hospitality). Thanks youtube!
Thursday involved a professor shindig at the school with empanadas and wine. I later went to the plaza to watch my little cousin, Ignacia, dance in her school's show.

little cousin Ignacia ↑

That evening began El Dieciocho (The 18th) marathon. The next few days would be a wash-rinse-repeat of: eat-drink-dance-sleep.

↓victoria and fernanda dancing the cueca

In Angol, the place to be during El Dieciocho is called Las Ramadas. It resembles a county fair you'd find in a small corner of the American southeast, but in place of rides there were "fondas" to eat, drink and dance. Imagine big tent-like setups with lots of tree branches covering the ceilings and walls. Tens of taca taca (foosball) tables riddled the center of the area as the foot traffic moved herdlike, mostly counter-clockwise, visiting the fondas. Barrels of chicha (a liquor/wine made from grapes or apples) lined the perimeter. Traditionally, chicha is drunk from a cacho (a severed horn of a cattle).



All day and all night, the Angolinos celebrated. Some more than others. It's common to see an inebriated passed out on the street.
By Sunday, I had had enough. Enough meat. Enough empanadas. Enough beer. Enough pisco. Enough dancing. Enough 6am late-nights. Enough hangovers. I spent the afternoon at my host grandparents' house, napping a siesta and watching Chile's military parade on TV.

Tia Mín with antichuchos (kebabs)

↑ abuelo & papá tomando vino

↑ mamá with the meat

I had heard about Las Fiestas Patrias all year long and I believe it lived up to the hype. I had an incredible time celebrating with my friends, my host family, and random Chilenos who were amazed at finding out that I wasn't Chileno. This year actually marks Chile's' bicentennial. So happy 200th, Chile. ¡Viva Chile Mierda!