In the weeks leading up to my departure for Chile, I found myself looking up pictures of Vina Del Mar and Valparaiso. I scanned through the beautiful pictures of bright colored houses stacked on the hills of Valparaiso and marveled at the images of cobble stone streets that led to the sea. I imagined myself walking through the narrow streets, talking with street vendors, sipping coffee while reading a book and stopping to admire the view between chapters. The images I crafted in my head could have been used on the postcards that street vendors sell in the market on Saturdays. I daydreamed of my South American adventure on the long flight to Santiago, but I was surprised to find that my first few days were not what I had anticipated.
My first few days in Chile were, well, rather chilly. We walked through the streets in a large group and other pedestrians were not shy to pause for a few extra second to stare with curiosity. We chatted loudly in English and clung tightly to our purses and camera’s after sitting through a long orientation that included a lengthy section about safety. Never before had I been so aware of my United States identity as I could tell it was rather apparent to all that walked by. Our first few days were filled with back-to-back to visits to various museums, vineyards, and historical buildings. We all pulled out our cameras and phones to snap pictures of the sites before our eyes, trying to get the best angle to capture the moment. Groups of students huddled together in order to fit everyone into the picture with monuments peaking through in the background. Without hesitation, everyone pulled in closer saying “can I see it?”, “send it to me!”, and “I’ll edit it.” I found myself guilty of the same dilemma, spending more time looking through the lens of my camera then taking a moment to simply look. I was selective in my picture taking. I only took those I felt were worthy to share with friends and family and the ones I felt best depicted beautiful scenery. Our long bus rides back to the hotel were filled with silence as we swiped through different filters to edit the pictures and pick favorites that would be uploaded as soon as we hunted down a coffee shop with wifi access.
After a long day full of excursions, I started to mindlessly gaze off when we reached the end of our visit to the Fonck Museum in Viña Del Mar that included the history of various native groups in Chile. I had lost myself in the thought of what I was going to do on our free four day weekend when I noticed all my peers pushing each other in order to get a glimpse of what lay behind the glass. Everyone took pictures then shuffled to the side for the next person to attain evidence that they had seen a real mummy. My daydreaming earned me a spot at the end of the line and when I finally had my turn to snap a picture of my first real mummy, I didn’t grab for my camera. The mummy was a woman and her gray hair hung braided and matted. She was curled in a ball and her bones were the color of volcanic rock. I stared at the small lifeless women until my thoughts started to mold the possible life she lived. Did she have children? Was she spiritual? What activities filled her day? I felt a nudge as the group was herded toward the next exhibit room, but I thought about her the rest of the visit.
As I reflect on these past few days in Chile, I have thought a lot about the expectations I had in my head and that actual experiences I have had. We live in a world where we filter what we share and how we view it is selective, but the experience itself is in no way refined. I don’t deny that I am a victim of the 21st century college traveler disease, which includes my compulsion to share my travels via social media and that maybe I spend a little too much time gazing into screens. However, Chile has given me the bittersweet gift of “misplacing” my phone and the opportunity to capture the city through my own eyes. I have seen streets cluttered with garbage, but I have also seen snow covered mountains as the sun sets. I have ridden in packed and dirty taxis, but I have also walked along the seashore at midnight. I have seen my breath while walking through a chilly house with no central heating, but I have also enjoyed a hot cup of Chilean soup with my host family. My trip in Chile has given me an unfiltered look into a country, a people, and a lifestyle very different from my own. I have felt lost, scared, happy, tired, anxious, amazed, and surprised in only a few short days, which could have never been accomplished by gazing long into a perfect postcard.