The Espolon diaries, part I

Here she is- the beautiful rural school of Espolon, Chile, one of the most isolated villages in perhaps the entire country. (First photo is from afar, the second at the entrance.)Currently there is no road that reaches the population of Espolon. It is for this reason that I take a boat (30 minutes to a little over an hour, depending on the number of passengers, the boat, and the wind) across the Lago Espolon, at which point a small jeep awaits to take me the few remaining miles to the school. If it weren't for the boat, the only remaining option for transportation is horseback.

Fortunately for the people of Espolon a small barge funded by the state arrived to the lake this month with the intention of making public trips to Espolon possible (until now only private boats have crossed the lake). Unfortunately for the people of Espolon, the barge, La Esperanza, is not yet up and running.

A brief summary of Espolon in numbers:

Number of cars: 6 (brought over by boat)

Number of residents: 300

Number of students (grades 1-6): 14

Number of teachers: 1

It is because of this extreme isolation that these students have never had English classes like some of the other rural schools. It is for this same reason that these students arrive to board at the school here in Futaleufu in the 7th grade scared out of their minds. They're used to one teacher, 13 classmates, and the ins and outs of life in Espolon. Period. Interaction with outsiders is downright terrifying for many of them. It is for this reason that when I arrived the first day and greeted them with a cheerful, "Hello!" they dared not even look at each other and giggle. The just stared at me. "¿Que me dicen Uds. cuando yo les digo 'Hello'?" I asked them. A few students replied, "¡Hola!" Okay, it was a start. The teacher's wife, Vilma, who also lives at the school and is in charge of the boarding aspect of the operation, joined the class, explaining to me that she and her husband own cabins in town that they rent out in the summer and she would also like to learn English to be able to interact with tourists. Excellent. By the end of the hour and half long class, the students had loosened up and were actively participating in the games and activities I had planned. We were off on the right foot.

That was the first week. The second week we were blessed with an unusually warm and sunny day so I suggested we go outside for part of the class. Next to the school, we formed a large circle and linked hands. "Ready? Right, right, right, right..." We chanted as we marched the circle to the right. "Stop! Left, left, left, left... stop! Up!" Hands over our heads. "Down!" And so we continued for about half an hour repeating such basic commands. But the one that really got them: "Dance!" And we all dropped hands and cut loose, dancing like maniacs, shimmying and shaking about, hands clapping and knees bouncing until I froze and shouted, "Stop!" and they tried to freeze but many were laughing so hard they couldn't help but move. "Dance!" and it started all over again.

Amidst the jiving and the swirling, I took note of the unmistakable innocence of these kids. They're different from the kids in Futaleufu, just as the kids in Futaleufu are different from the kids in Santiago. If we were to draw a physical scale, a horizontal line, ranging from rural to city, these kids would mark the extreme starting point. Interestingly, one might use this same scale to measure contamination, both environmental and social. By social contamination I mean crime, drugs, dishonesty, etc.; things to which these children seem oblivious. If this is the case, that the degree of "ruralness" or "citiness" has a direct correlation to the level of purity or contamination, then these children would also mark the starting point on the scale for innocence. Let it be noted that I am aware of the difference between innocence and ignorance; one could easily argue that these children suffer from lack of exposure and information. Maybe. Let it also be noted that I am aware of high levels of domestic abuse and alcoholism in the region and that it is very possible that this quintessential image of untainted childhood is not a reality at all. On a sunny warm day in the middle of winter, however, anything seems possible, and I will embrace this sensation of purity and innocence while it lasts.

Things I love, hate, and things that just are

Photo 1: My house

Photo 2: The view from my living room window
1. Everyday at noon, without fail, the town siren rings at the fire station. Everyday at noon, without fail, every dog in town howls like crazy at the siren (it just is)
2. Orange peels drying on wood burning stoves, the aroma of citrus (love)
3. frozen toothpaste (hate)
4. New favorite pastime: placing garlic cloves in the tray under the wood burning stove and eating toasted garlic (love)
5. As Eva says, walking around town like Michael Jackson. Why? Because Chileans haven’t learned that all the salt they put on their food would be put to better use on the sheets of ice that cover the sidewalks (hate)
6. Every home has a tea kettle on the wood burning stove, always ready to offer tea or coffee at the first knock on the door. (love)
7. Ironically, despite the above-mentioned fact, very few people actually leave their houses to take advantage of the hospitality. I’ve discovered that while everyone in Futa knows everyone, very few people actually know each other. That would explain all the gossip (hate).
8. My bed is made for me every day (love).
9. The rooster I hear crowing outside right now (love).
10. The Chilean folk music I hear downstairs right now (love).
11. My complete and total lack of interaction with anyone from my country (it just is).
12. The film festival that some people here have organized: Every other week a different movie is shown and then discussed. Friday we saw “Lengua de Marisposa." I highly recommend it. It's lovely to have intellectual stimulation and appreciation for the arts. (love)

13. Boxed red wine warmed by the fire accompanied by Sahne-Nuss, a divine chocolate bar Nestle makes (love)

14. Playing Truco with the few young teachers in town while we drink the boxed red wine and eat the divine chocolate (love)

15. Conducting my first yoga class ever, in Spanish, with three students, a roaring fire, incense, and music to relax even the tensest of souls (love)

16. Feeling like I have been very unkind to my body, not giving it the proper exercise it needs and feeding it loads of coffee, tea, and toast (hate)

17. Leaving for work 10 minutes before my classes start because my commute to school is a 2-block walk (some days I love it, some days I would prefer some new scenery).

18. Hearing that TWO of my good friends in Ohio had healthy babies this week- CONGRATULATIONS JAIME AND MARIE! (I love this, obviously)

19. Having complete freedom to teach whatever I want in my classes at the pace that is convenient for my students (love)

20. The puny, pathetic, pitiful selection of fruits and vegetables in town (hate)

A word on Natives of Futaleufu

This film festival that I mentioned is attended by purely non-Futaleufinos, with one exception. In other words, of the 9 people who generally attend, 8 of them are from other parts of Chile but now live in Futa. I have noticed the same trend in my English classes. Of the 17 adult students who are completing the course, 8 are actually from Futaleufu. The rest are professionals who arrive from other cities and now work in the municipality or the school or the hospital or a tourist lodge. It is a sad phenomenon that the natives of Futa don’t take advantage of such opportunities (many started the English course but stopped attending) and from what I’ve gathered from conversations with people who have lived here long enough to know, there are many different factors.
With the huge success of tourism, many Futaleufinos became accustomed to making easy money without investing much work or time. The result? Complacency.
When they want to improve their tourist business, they ask the government for granted. The result? A mentality of receiving for nothing.
When landowners, whose parents were colonists who crossed the mountains on horseback and worked hard to establish a faming lifestyle with sheep and cows, when these landowners die, their children (also Futaleufinos) are now selling that land for large amounts of money to foreigners who want a vacation home in the Patagonia. Again, quick money.
And so it goes that the generations of Futaleufu are changing rapidly, and the source of that river of change is undoubtedly foreign influence. For better or worse, I have yet to decide. The impact on the locals’ work ethic has certainly not been positive, and in fact I’ve tired of hearing stories that support that notion. However, there are those who use their financial success to promote a better education for their children. Some send their children to board in Argentina for schooling; others make large sacrifices so their children can attend a high-quality school in Puerto Montt. The value placed on education is increasing, and this can be viewed as nothing but positive.
The grand irony in this emphasis on education is that the children in Futa are encouraged to get a good education so they can leave Futa. When Eva says to her students, “See those mountains out there? Think outside those mountains,” she’s encouraging them to expand their thinking horizons. Sadly, this is often mistaken as “You can get out! Education is your ticket out of this small town.” Locals have yet to discover the benefits that could be of getting a good education and bringing that wealth back to Futaleufu. Non-natives, on the other hand, on catching on quickly.