Study Abroad in Chile

Lately I've been thinking about my time in Chile studying abroad. I'm not sure why; maybe I'm just remembering all the versions of me that have evolved over the years, thinking about how many different lives I've lived. I remember quite vividly, in June 2004, I went from sunny Santa Barbara, CA to rainy Santiago, Chile. Twenty-years-old, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I hadn't been out of the country before and I hardly spoke Spanish, but somehow I knew this was for me. I distinctly remember learning about the University of California Education Abroad Program on campus at an info session at UC Santa Barbara. I took a brochure so I could show my parents on my next visit home.

Up until then, I had lived my whole life in Southern California. I wanted to branch out and study in a Spanish speaking country. And out of the study abroad choices (e.g., Madrid, Mexico City, etc.), Chile sounded the most appealing. I had grown up playing soccer and knew some of the best soccer came out of South America. My dad had also spoke about his travels in South America in his 20s with fond memories. Chile was also close to some countries that I dreamed of traveling to (e.g., Brazil and Argentina). And while it was pretty far away from home, I learned it had many similarities to California, with the north of Chile looking like the south of California, and vice versa.

First I had to convince my parents to let me go. I presented all the facts, assured them it was safe, and that I would be just a phone call (or plane ride) away. My mom said she would "think about it." And after a day or two, miraculously, she agreed!

I was the first in the family to go away for college, and now I wanted to go a-wayyy for college. I think this was new for my mom too; having a daughter that was fiercely independent and wanting to be out in the world. Looking back, agreeing to let me go was probably the best thing she could have done for me, giving a true gift with her support. I needed to see the world. And I think she knew that too.

In Santiago, I learned how to ride the metro.

It's where I enjoyed taking the micro (bus) an hour to la Universidad Católica so I could listen to my mixed-CD on my Sony Walkman and take in the sights.

Where I learned how to speak conversational Spanish (possibly my peak level?).

Where I learned how to dance salsa, to a live band :)

Where I first ate a hot dog with smashed up avocado on it (don't knock it til you've tried it)!

Where I was tear gassed for the first time (wrong place wrong time, doh!).

Where I learned what cold was (this SoCal kid didn't even have a warm coat!).

Where I could "blend in" (if I didn't speak).

Where I learned how to ride a horse.

Where I learned how to ski on the slopes of the Andes.

Were I first visited a winery (enter wine appreciation era—shout out Carménère!)

Where I went on a weekend trip to Bolivia that turned into a week-long trip because the buses didn't run on Independence Day and I couldn't cross back over the border.

Where I took on a vegetarian diet because I gained so much weight from bread and manjar (dulce de leche) my pants hardly fit.

Where I saw my first live soccer game in South America.

Where I had my first proper midday lunch, with wine, multiple courses, and a siesta to follow. Where I learned about the political pendulum swinging from the far left to the far right in the 1970s.

Where I took soccer as an elective and surprised the class being a girl who played competitively.

Where I took the bus 24 hours to Buenos Aires to save money on airfare (in the winter, over the cordillera, drinking wine to stay warm).

Where I lived life to the fullest.

These were indeed formative years that shaped who I am today. It was a jumping off point into the world. A proof of concept that one can truly see the world, explore rich cultures, and live the life one wants; a true privilege and life lesson.

Now, more than twenty years later, I still appreciate it all. The beautiful cultures and the hard times. How freezing it was. How far away from my family I was. Learning how operate in a different society and communicate in a second language. It was the first time I didn't spend Thanksgiving with my family and remember how palpable that was . To those around me that supported me, and to myself for going for it—thank you.

There's a scene in the movie The Motorcycle Diaries where locals ask the young travelers why they travel. They respond, "We travel to travel." With my experience studying abroad, I now understand—I traveled to travel.

And I am forever grateful.