Nosotros/los poetas/caminantes/exploramos/el mundo,/en cada puerta/nos recibió la vida/participamos/en la lucha terrestre.

"We
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle."

I try not to have too many specified life goals--just blurry hazes of possible goals off in the horizon,

because I know that if I took a permanent marker and drew those goals into dark sketched lines,

they would turn into barriers, pressing down on me and driving me scared skinny through a narrow path with only one question circling in my head---

how do I obtain these "goals"?

So, I prefer to wake up with only one goal, to do my best to try and be my truest self, whatever that means.

And I think Change,
although it is most always painful and/or difficult, a little awkward too perhaps,

is always good.

It keeps life fresh and adventurous and new. It keeps me excited and provokes a desire to learn new things, to be
new things.

Tuesday night was my last night with my family in Santiago. It was pretty sad. We ordered pizza, and I made them "fresh" chocolate chip pancakes, my specialty. I was pretty proud of them. Check it out:



and I gave them all my gifts. Wednesday Pancho, Berti, and Claudia all drove me to the airport and came with me all the way to security, where we waved until I couldn't see them anymore. sigh. sometimes it stinks that you have to close some doors before you can open new ones. sorry for the cliche. . . but. . . change is good. good, good.

So, I'm in Concepcion.

I arrived on Wednesday (holy moly was that only two days ago???) at around 4pm. My luggage of course was wayyy the weight limit, and I had to cut my little toe off in the airport and hand it to the lady to get her to let me take it all. not really. I just had to pay a lot, but you get my point.

When I got to Conce, Ana Maria (who I live with), Domke Schultz (the president of the Rotary club and my host), and Nelson Olate (the secretary of the club who I've been emailing with) were all there to meet me!! It was great. The guys brought me beautiful flowers:


Then we headed back to Ana Maria's house, which is lovely, and I dropped off my stuff. Then we went straight over to meet Monica Zambrano, who is the secretary of the office for international students. She's got a warm-I'm only human and I do my best-kinda smile, and she let me know all the stuff I needed to do in order to register (which I'm still a little unsure about).

Then we returned back to the house had some dinner and spent a few hours trying to figure out the wireless code. The whole afternoon Ana Maria and I had the chance to talk, talk, talk. This lady is great. She's probably 5'3" or 5'4" and she's super spunky. I have no idea how old she is, but she has a very young spirit. She's a hoot. She speaks Super fast, but it's good for me. and she's constantly correcting me, which is also helpful. She and everyone else keep talking about how good my spanish is which has really helped my confidence. I feel like I'm in really good shape with my spanish. sweet. it's a new feeling.

So, Wednesday night she and I sat around and chatted while I unpacked. It turns out that Ana Maria is separated (permanently it seems) and lives in this big house by herself with her brother who is 53 and has down syndrome (he's super sweet). There are four other bedrooms in the house other than mine. One of which is hers. For the last three years, every semester she has had four foreign students stay with her. So, this house is really a safe-haven for foreign mis-fits--cool huh?? I feel like I'm going to fit right in.

It's good though. I feel like I'm going to have a family here. I am the only student here right now, and I lucked out because my bedroom is the only one downstairs with a private bath. It's right next to the kitchen (Thanks to God, because s/he knows me so well), which means I'm pretty much in heaven, with quick access to the bread drawer (these are a staple in all chilean house-holds, a random drawer somewhere in the kitchen, that has bags of fresh-baked bread in it-it's like finding a basket full of chocolate filled easter eggs in one bush---man. . . I'm twisted).


(you can take the girl out of the south. . . but you can't take the appetite out of the girl???) Sometimes I see the stories on the news about the anorexic models who have died, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. That's usually because I'm eating while I watch tv. just kidding. ANYWAYS--

Ana Maria isn't sure what other students will be coming except for one, a boy, a fulbright scholar from the US who gets here next friday. sweet. a new friend. I hope he doesn't like bread. just kidding. sorry, sometimes I forget that other people read this.

Here are some pictures of the house and stuff:


This is my lovely little bulletin board. /as you can see there are lots of poems and photos up there. If you want your sweet and kind card to be added to my bulletin board, all you have to do is send it to:
Meredith Hanson
Victoria 370-B
Barrio Universitario
Concepcion, 4030000
CHILE

I have no shame. I like mail, and I miss you guys. I'm trying to be more like Pam, you know Pam--from The Office. She's trying to be more up-front about what she wants in life. Well, gosh darnett, I want mail. I promise if you send me mail- I will send you mail too! ha,ok, this is getting pathetic. . . moving on:


This is my bed. Isn't it lovely?


This is my window, desk, and bed. Yes, I know I am stating the obvious, but I feel that commentary is necessary with "tour of the house" photos.


My stove (for the WINTER or for these cold summer nights because they are cold people. I'm a little afraid of what winter is going to feel like, but I'll toughen up) and my cute little stool. I'm not quite sure what the stool is for, but maybe if I was shorter it would come in handy.


tah-dah. my very own skylight. I told you people-this place is snazzy.

bam! skylight again.

aww, isn't my bookshelf cute??? I'm wishing desperately that I had brought more books in English. Books are extremely expensive here, but once I get my library card it's going to be like christmas all year around. that's right.

more shelves, I'm telling you, the organizational potential in here is THRILLING. I don't know why this is so funny to me, just that thought about the orginazational potential being thrilling, but I can't stop giggling at the thought. . .
If you don't know me. . . I'm not usually much of a "organizational" kinda person.

mom, and dad, and everyone else who has ever lived with me or near me. you know you still love me.

the view from my bed down to my bathroom door (straight ahead), my closet (on the left), and the exit/entrance door (on the right

private bath

private shower

closet-hello, organized lifestyle . . . but wait-----there's more--

Yes, those are my socks and underwear in little containers. This concludes the tour of my room, isn't it sweet? Onto the rest of the house:

dining room. . .

which is connected to the . . . living room. Living room. . .

which is connected to the. . .hip bone. ha. just kidding more living room

cool china, book, dresser thingy.

hallway, and yes that is me being sly and trying to take a picture of myself.

stairs

Ana Maria's room and dark fuzzy picture of Ana Maria.

more of Ana Maria's room

TV room!
TV room!
hallway with other bedroom of soon-to-be new best friends.
Kitchen, very spacious.
fridge and cabinets

Me and Annette. I love Annette! She's one of the coolest dogs ever. We're totally going to be park buddies. Notice that I'm squinting here? Those are my glasses on the table. Obviously, I can't see without my glasses. But people here always ask me to take off my glasses when they take pictures of me, maybe they are trying to tell me something. . . like. . .
I look better squinting??
this is my wndow from the outside. not very exciting photo, but kinda romantic huh?
the walkway from the house to the street


I have a lot of pictures of the campus, but I'm going to save them for another blog. I don't want to talk to much about registering for classes because I'm a little anal, and it is stressing me out a little bit. I was pretty stressed out about it yesterday. . .well, until I met Chris.

On Thursday I met with a very nice Spanish Professor(who is not named Chris) who is going to contact lit professors and help me register for classes. He told me to come back at noon on friday. I liked him because he told me my spanish was good, and I pretty much automatically really like anyone who tells me that. ha. no shame.

So, when I showed up at noon on Friday, the professor was walking out of the building. . .

uh. . . hola??? I said

and he was like oh, hey, and basically told me that since all the first year classes started first (on monday) he won't have my information until tuesday (don't ask me to explain-I don't get it either, and it just makes me nervous) I'm pretty sure he also said that I have to wait and let all the chilean students register first and then see what classes are available (Ana Maria says that this is NOT what he said, but I think she's just trying to make me feel better). Regardless, the advanced classes don't start for two weeks or so, so I know I'm ok. . . I'm just from the US, and all I can think about are the nightmares I had about BSC registration, with the big screen on the wall with the word CLOSED next to every one of the classes I wanted.

Breathe, Meredith, Breathe. We are not in Alabama anymore folks.

Anyways, like Everything in Chile, things will work out beautifully, I just need to be patient. I'm going to see the professor again on Tuesday.

After we had that enchanting conversation with the professor on the stairs while he was on his way out, we walked upstairs to the English floor.

I would like to volunteer to teach english at a school somewhere close. They are always looking for native speakers to help teach, and Ana Maria knows a few of the english professors. While I was waiting in line to speak to one of these professors, I spotted Chris.

A few days ago, Ana Maria and I were walking behind this tall, blond, blue-eyed chap who was walking with a group of Chileans, and by his thick accent it was obvious he was a gringo.

This chap, whose name happens to be Chris, was standing around on the English floor yesterday. Ana Maria, who like Kevin Bacon, somehow knows everyone and is connected to everything, said that she remembered him and went off to talk to him. This lady doesn't know what the word "timida" means.

So, I'm just standing in line still, and I hear her yelling my name. great.

She introduced me to Chris, he's here to teach english and has actually already been here for a semester and leaves in July. He has a thick, thick accent, but seems very nice (and very attractive -by the way--). Somehow Ana Maria walked away slyly and left us to chat. I was just chatting away in spanish, and he was like,

"uhh do you mind if we speak English?--It's just easier."

shame.

"Oh sure," I said, sorta chuckling, "sorry."

turns out Chris is from England. I know, seriously, the accent is killer, and he's super nice. He hasn't had that much of an opportunity to practice his spanish because he's only here to teach english and isn't taking any classes. He said that I should watch out, since my spanish was so good (right), because a lot of the british and american boys that are here teaching leech onto people like me.


hmmmmm, leech on.

I started to tell him he could leech onto me or that I would be happy to help him with his spanish any time. . .

but I just said I would definitely watch our for those leeches.

Is that even how you spell leeches??

anyways, I had to run to speak to the Prof about volunteering (she seemed stoked that I was interested), and I said goodbye to Chris as we were leaving, and we exchanged numbers so that hopefully we can hang out.

FRIEND MY AGE COUNT:
1

sweeeeeeeeet. and he's british. double sweet.

anyways, besides the fact that this was the first time I've spoken English with anyone (other than my family on skype) in a while it was a bizarre cultural experience.

I mean you know how you're standing in the grocery store line or something and there are two people in front of you, and I don't know let's say they're speaking Swahili and all you can think is, man, I wonder what they're talking about-- are they laughing at me, why can't they just speak english, why are they speaking their language here? . . . etc. etc. You know you've thought it. . . well, Chris and I were totally those people for like ten minutes. and I saw people looking at us, and it was a surreal experience-I was really excited to be speaking english but also a little embarrassed. I almost wanted to apologize.

like to turn around to the other students and be like. . .

uhhh. . .he's british, look at him. . . I'm sorry. I'm desperate for friends here, and I can't refuse the accent.

but I just tried to speak softer, which I'm not really good at either.

anyways, at one point ana maria popped back in outta nowhere to tell us to stop speaking english, only spanish!!! she said to him. . . you both need to practice!! and I felt bad. she's was laughing and everything, but I felt lazy. . .
and also. . . kinda cool.

You remember when you were in like 5th grade or something and you got into a pig-latin kick, and thought you were so cool cuz you knew a secret language. it was kinda like that.

anyways, this whole discussion may seem immature, but I think in a lot of ways our languages, our accents are just more ways that we shape our own identities, and there may be something to be said for respecting the language around you. I don't know.

anyways, all of this was really just to say, I met a cute, tall british guy. haha. just kidding.

I also met a friend of Ana Maria's whose name is Gabriella, she 70 and Super cool. We rented movies and watched "When a man loves a woman" and "four weddings and a funeral" -both great. Gabriella is a widow. She's spunky and hilarious. I already love her.

I also met Ana Maria's daughter, six month year old grandson, and son-in-law last night. Funny, smart, and charming-they appear to be the perfect little family. They call babies wa-wa's here. ha. wa-wa. i love it.

I'm going to my first rotary meeting on Tuesday night, and I hoping to sign up for salsa lessons on Monday. promise I will write more soon.

I hope you and yours are happy and safe,

una aurora,
mere

Ode to the book (II)

Book,
beautiful
book,
miniscule forest,
leaf
after leaf
your paper
smells of the elements,
you are
matutinal and nocturnal,
vegetal,
oceanic,
in you ancient pages
bear hunters,
camp fires
near the Mississisppi
canoes
in the islands,
later
roads
and roads,
revelations,
insurgent
races,
Rimbaud like a wounded
fish bleeding
flopping in the mud,
and the beauty
of fellowship,
stone by stone
the human castle rises,
sorros intertwined
with strength,
actions of solidarity,
clandestine
book
from pocket
to pocket,
hidden
lamp,
red star.

We
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle.
What was our victory?
A book,
a book full
of human touches,
of shirts,
a book
without loneliness, with men
and tools,
a book
is victory.
It lives and falls
like all fruit,
it doesn't have light,
it doesn't have
shadow,
it fades,
it sheds its leaves,
it gets lost
in the streets,
it tumbles ot earth.
Morning-fresh
book of poetry,
return
again
to hold snow and moss
on your pages
so that footsteps
or eyes
may keep carving
trails:
once more
describe the world to us,
the springs
in the middle of the forest
the high woodlands,
the polar
planets,
and man
on the roads,
on the new roads,
advancing
in the jungle,
in the water,
in the sky,
in the naked solitude of the sea,
man
discovering
the ultimate secrets,
man returning
with a book,
the hunter back again
with a book,
the farmer
plowing
with a book.


ODA AL LIBRO (II)
LIBRO
hermoso,
libro,
mínimo bosque,
hoja
tras hoja,
huele
tu papel
a elemento,
eres
matutino y nocturno,
cereal,
oceánico,
en tus antiguas páginas
cazadores de osos,
fogatas
cerca del Mississippi,
canoas
en las islas,
más tarde
caminos
y caminos,
revelaciones,
pueblos
insurgentes,
Rimbaud como un herido
pez sangriento
palpitando en el lodo,
y la hermosura
de la fraternidad,
piedra por piedra
sube el castillo humano,
dolores que entretejen
la firmeza,
acciones solidarias,
libro
oculto
de bolsillo
en bolsillo,
lámpara
clandestina,
estrella roja.

Nosotros
los poetas
caminantes
exploramos
el mundo,
en cada puerta
nos recibió la vida,
participamos
en la lucha terrestre.
Cuál fue nuestra victoria?
Un libro,
un libro lleno
de contactos humanos,
de camisas,
un libro
sin soledad, con hombres
y herramientas,
un libro
es la victoria.
Vive y cae
como todos los frutos,
no sólo tiene luz,
no sólo tiene
sombra,
se apaga,
se deshoja,
se pierde
entre las calles,
se desploma en la tierra.
Libro de poesía
de mañana,
otra vez
vuelve
a tener nieve o musgo
en tus páginas
para que las pisadas
o los ojos
vayan grabando
huellas:
de nuevo
descríbenos el mundo
los manantiales
entre la espesura,
las altas arboledas,
los planetas
polares,
y el hombre
en los caminos,
en los nuevos caminos,
avanzando
en la selva,
en el agua,
en el cielo,
en la desnuda soledad marina,
el hombre
descubriendo
los últimos secretos,
el hombre
regresando
con un libro,
el cazador de vuelta
con un libro,
el campesino arando
con un libro.