Living Reality in the Land of the Surreal by Desiree Cho

Mt. Chillan with tiny puffs of steam
on the left peak

Every day, I go about a now-normalized routine: awaken, dress, eat breakfast, go to school, check in with our LSU students, do volunteer work at Thomas Jefferson, study for LSU, go home, spend time with my wonderful host family (the Zurita-Montalbetti crew), journal, and collapse into bed. It is not mundane at all, because I get to experience Chilean culture at its finest. Verónica, the mother of my host family, has introduced me to amazing foods (I have a whole list in my journal), and the Thomas Jefferson School is place where I continue to learn and grow as an educator.

For instance, during breaks and between classes, laughing students race through the hallways. At lunch the other day, I snuck up on a child who was sneaking up on his friend, and we all three laughed together. If only we could accomplish the same kind of light-hearted atmosphere in every school in the USA. Even young elementary students are clearly respected as people who can make their own decisions about how to conduct themselves in a hallway safely.

Salta del Laja

Happy moments with my host family and at school like these are bits of reality in what is overall a surreal experience. A couple of weekends ago, for example, I saw a volcano. For real. A volcano. Did I mention it was in the ANDES MOUNTAINS?! Mt. Chillan (Chee-ahn), where we hiked, enjoyed natural steam pools, and ate way too much good food, even sent us back to Concepción on our last day with waves of very small puffs of steam rising from the top. Such sites, to this Midwestern farm girl, are only places one can visit in a book.

This past weekend, we went to Salta del Laja (La-ha), a beautiful waterfall situated on the Laja River. Many have capitalized on the natural wonder, and there are hotels, restaurants, and artisans selling crafts, all who are situated around the cascade. Short trails bring you close to the falls, and spectacular views can be had almost everywhere you point a camera.

I am so grateful that I was able to come on the trip, meet hospitable members of the community here in Concepción, witness good teaching, and see students happy to be in school—all in shadows of the places a gringa (an affectionate term Chileans use to refer to foreigners) like me could only read about.