It's getting colder, but the heart is always warm

I have returned from the countryside with only a few hundred flea bites, a pouty stomach, and one of the most profound experiences of my life.

Our second educational excursion was to the Mapuche pueblo of Cerro Loncoche ('mapu' is earth, 'che' is people , and 'lonco' is head in Mapudungun, so 'mapuche' means people of the earth and 'loncoche' means head of the people - think less literally. The hill has sacred significance for them, and the children made sure we asked permission and thanked the hill when entering and leaving its slopes.) This pueblo is located almost inside the small city of Makewe, where our plane arrived, but you would think that you were a hundred miles from anywhere. The air has a freshness that you cannot even imagine when living in Santiago, and the odors and sounds of the countryside are the only things that attempt to break through your own tranquility of mind. As if that would be a bad thing...

We lived with families again, but these families were all at or below the poverty line (as defined by the government..) in contrast with the middle-class families and students with whom we have shared habitation before. This in itself was a very new experience for me, and provided me with challenges and questions that may have been floating under the surface, but which become painfully potent with these amazing and amable (amiable? I don't remember which spelling is the english one) people. Greta and I shared a bedroom in the house of Yenny, with her husband, son, parents-in-law and brother-in-law. Mornings consisted of everyone gathered in the kitchen, where the wood stove kept the room toasty in comparison con the frigidity of the rest of the house. Fresh baked bread and palta is breakfast and dinner, spiced up with maybe soup or beans or rice for lunch. There is no heat, and running water only arrived five years ago, electricity three years before that. There are toilets a short walk from the house, but the plumbing has failed so they're practically useless, and the family has gone back to using their outhouse. All of the buildings were built by the family, and all except the house are full of pigs, cows, dogs, cats or sheep. The walk to the school is half an hour, to the hospital a bus ride of an hour or more.

Before we left, everyone told us that the Mapuche are a closed and private people, and that they would be very suspicious of us and not want to share their lives. On the contrary, they welcomed us with open arms, showing more generosity, curiosity and pure intentions than almost anyone I have met in Chile. Most of the older people speak Mapudungun, their dying language which is currently in the process of rescucitation. Alejandro, our grandpa there, spent the evenings teaching us new words in Mapudungun, which has a fluidity and beauty to it that many languages these days lack. Or maybe it's just his accent, which sounds like it's coming from the very depths of the earth, as if the sounds are not born in his throat and tongue but rather in his history, in his people, in all the knowledge and spirit that has been passed to him through generations, and which he now sees being lost in his grandson. They were more than willing to talk to us about the struggles they have experiences as an indigenous culture under attack by modern society, how they have attempted to adapt to the money economy and the loss of land, their conflicts with the government to regain said laid and to establish their proper place as citizens, the changes and disappearance of their very identity.

(Check it out... one of these beautifully free pigs... became this incredibly delicious slab of savory meat. This is what we had on the last night, and I don't think I have ever had meat that sublime. I mean, come on, that blood was coursing through veins that morning! You can't get any fresher, and you can't find any better quality meat.)

The kids are also uber cute. Our brother Jonás was adorable, of course (he's in the red). The children never wanted to get away from us! On Thursday we were supposed to have a class of English to augment their intercultural education (a special curriculum designed to mesh the new modern culture with their own, which includes classes of Mapudungun and traditional customs), but they ended up just taking us on long walking tours of the countryside and talking to us about their lives. One girl, who was probably around 11 years old, spent nearly half an hour telling me the myths and stories that suround Cerro Loncoche, explaining their significance to her people in the past and present. They relished in telling us about the plants that were growing everywhere, how to use them medicinally or why not to eat them and any stories they had about them. I was thoroughly impressed! It was great to be able to spend more than just an afternoon with them too, as has been the case in the other schools. We were really able to form relationships with all of the kids, to know their names and where they live and what they want to study and their favorite games (generally el Escondido o Paquitos, hide and seek or cops and robbers). They were curious and full of love, like all children, and genuinely endeared me to the place.

Here they are dancing a traditional dance for us. They even took a few of us up to be a part of it! Very amazing.

We also went to Puerta Saavedra, where the Mapuche of past (and sometimes of present) hold their religious celebrations. It was incredibly beautiful and powerful, and I am thankful to René to plan in about an hour to sit and ponder the significance and impact of the place. I feel like he's gotten to really know our group, and can see that we are all very thoughtful people who desire to find a connection to a place that surpasses what you see and hear, but rather to fully comprehend what that place IS, what it means, and how it affects us as both physical and spiritual beings. This was one of those times where we all dispersed without saying anything, finding our own place in space and time to exist. That's one of the things that I absolutely love about our group - we get each other. Everything clicks. René told us all before we left for the airport that we were one of his favorite groups, not only because we were intelligent and passionate, but because the chemistry between us is of a quality that he has never seen before in groups. He told us that we move almost as one body, everyone together and adapting to each other and the situation without conflict, but also without conformity. We are our own, and we are each other. Not exactly in those words, but he was speaking Spanish so ya know. It was very touching, and very true, and made our parting seem so much more pronounced.

I really can't believe we have already arrived at this point in our trip. Semester, whatever. Starting at noon on Monday, I will no longer have anything planned. No classes, no seminars, no meetings, no visits to schools. Thirty days lie in front of me that I must plan myself, in which I need to construct research replete with interviews and sources and observations, and I need to do it in Spanish. Tomorrow I also meet two men who might be my research advisor, and I have to hold interviews with them to see which of them I prefer. They're competing for me! haha Sweet, but intense. I'm also really excited to get started, it's just a question of how to begin, and how to fill my days! I don't think that second one will be a problem...

Here's a picture of Lauren on the way to the airport on Tuesday. It was so cold in her house she decided to wear her bathrobe out, and hence was truly riding in style! I love this girl. Just look at that face! This also illustrates how freaking early our program always has us leave a place... We were all practically delirious it was so early.

Another reason why I can't believe we're here is because this step in the program necessitates that we all go our separate ways. Yesterday we left Darren en el campo to deal with the fleas himself, and it felt way too much like a good-bye. Tomorrow Kira, Lauren, Brady and Greta get on a bus to Buenos Aires, and Liz is going to Valpo. These are some of my closest friends, with whom I have been with almost constantly for the past two months. I can't imagine them not being around. None of us thought of this day until we were hugging Darren good-bye, and all of a sudden it is too real. The past two months have been so profoundly ..profound. Every single person has left a mark on me in a way that will never be forgotten, and each has had some affect on my growth as a person while I have been here. I am going to miss them. This isn't goodbye, but it is. After this we'll only have maybe a week together, then we're all off to our summer plans spread across the nation and the globe. I always wonder what will happen after the desperdidas... we like to say that we will see each other soon, but sometimes life gets in the way. How do you guarantee that a piece of your heart doesn't get lost in the stream?

All in all, thinking about what lies ahead of me is very exciting. At times I start to think about the amazing thing happening at home, or things that will be happening... my dad sends me pictures of our yard in the spring (one of my favorite things) and I almost just want to be back there, sitting on the porch reading a book or swinging on the swings at the pond. At times I just want to come back right after the program so I can move into my house and start up at Carolina Adventures again, and of course see all of my incredible friends back home, who I can see changing and growing, and who I hope will surprise me at how easy it is to slip back in. Then I remember that I'm in South America. And you are all jealous. And I get to study graffiti and plan my own studies. Then afterwards I get to wander around Chile and Argentina and Peru, to see things that I could never imagine in my entire life if it didn't happen to me.

Last night I was blessed with the most graceful and wondrous shooting star I have ever seen. It birthed near the culmination of the blackened dome above me, falling slowly towards the cityscape and leaving behind a tail of orange and yellow and brilliant white. I believe it's a good omen. Incredible things will happen.