Many students at Notre Dame have been immersing themselves in European adventures: strolling along the Seine, engrossed in Rousseau, pondering existential concepts or newfound leisure time while savoring pints of Guinness, hurrying to grab a cornetto and heart-shaped cappuccino before catching an early morning train to an Italian coastal town. Their escapades could easily be mistaken for scenes from an art-house film or a promotional video for university study abroad programs.
On the contrary, my journey in Chile unfolded quite differently.
It all commenced on the inaugural day of the pre-program. I arrived just in time to join the group for our welcome lunch, held in the basement of a hotel in the heart of Santiago. Our first culinary experience in Chile took place at a so-called “Venetian” eatery adorned with New York-themed decor (featuring Mets memorabilia, Sinatra references, American traffic signs, and images of the Flatiron Building) serving cuisine that was oddly unremarkable and lacked freshness.
The following day, 21 of us, accompanied by the pre-program coordinator, two chefs, the driver, our yoga instructor, and all our belongings, squeezed into a bus bound for the countryside. The journey offered stunning views of agricultural landscapes framed by the distant Andes, yet our enjoyment was marred by the pressing need for restrooms and sustenance. After several hours, a late 4 p.m. lunch break, and a stop at a remote grocery store, we finally reached our modest lodging for the next 10 days: an ancient monastery nestled in the mountainous region of Vilches, far removed from civilization and devoid of phone signal.
Let me vividly describe my quarters in Vilches.
Picture a small, dusty room with a minuscule window that had been inhabited by a monk four decades prior. However, this was no ordinary room. It was home to various creatures, including scorpions, moths, unidentified brown insects, venomous corner spiders known as arañas de rincón, and sizeable but harmless tarantulas, one of which caused quite a scare when it sought refuge in a wall crevice after a failed attempt to shoo it away.
Each night became a test of mental fortitude, striving to meditate and divert my thoughts from my uninvited roommates and the looming threat of potential harm.
A typical day in Vilches followed a routine: at 8 a.m., a bell would chime, signaling us to gather for a simple breakfast of bread and tea. Our schedule included four classes: Physical Education, Spanish language, cultural studies, and history. This entailed engaging in workout sessions, dissecting Chilean song lyrics, partaking in traditional dances, and occasionally veering off course for an hour of “chisme” (gossip) with our history professor. All of this unfolded in the midst of nowhere, with a group of American students conversing in Spanish.
Following a customary Chilean midday meal, we had leisure time, often spent by the river sunbathing, chatting, and occasionally taking a dip in the chilly waters. Later in the afternoon, we would regroup for activities such as poetry readings, theatrical performances, or scavenger hunts, reminiscent of summer camp pastimes.
Evenings were reserved for dinner, followed by more group activities and leisure time. Given the group’s musical inclination, many nights concluded with impromptu jam sessions using guitar tabs acquired during our river excursions. On one memorable occasion, under the starlit sky of the mountains, our professors humorously pointed out UFOs, which bore a striking resemblance to passing planes and satellites.
After the intense experience in Vilches, yearning for civilization, we packed our belongings onto the bus once more and headed to Curepto, a quaint farming town near the coast, for the remainder of the pre-immersion program. I bid farewell to my monk-like accommodations and settled into a shared room with a local host family, eager to delve into the rural Chilean way of life.
Our days in Curepto were spent bonding with our host families, embarking on excursions, playing soccer with the locals, and enjoying wine tastings at nearby vineyards. Each evening, the entire town converged at the cultural fair for music, drinks, and empanadas. Curepto served as the perfect transition from the seclusion of Vilches to the vibrant energy of Santiago.
Now acclimated to life in Santiago, my study abroad experience has taken on a more cosmopolitan flair, aligning closely with the adventures of my European peers. While I now rest easier without the fear of arachnid encounters, I will forever cherish the rustic charm of my “campesina” experience.
Kat Regala, a junior pursuing studies in liberal arts with minors in computing and digital technology, and science, technology, and values, originates from Naples, Florida, with a passion for travel. When not engrossed in books or writing, she indulges in coffee, yoga, or indulges in reality TV marathons. Reach out to Kat at [email protected].
The opinions expressed in this piece belong solely to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of The Observer.