The blog that documents time spent abroad is, of course, a staple of the medium. Why might that be? I think it’s because such a blog, by having an immediate, easily relatable subject, instantly has something so many other blogs sorely lack: a plot, or at least a setting. There are sure to be occasions where I won’t have anything to write about, but at least I’ll be Chile, rather than a friend’s couch back in Michigan.
Did I get ahead of myself? Well, for those who know me, and don’t know what I’m up to, I recently arrived in Santiago, Chile to find work as an English teacher. Right now, I’m taking a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification course. Two weeks are over, and there are two more to go. Once I’m done, it’ll be a matter of knocking on doors, resumé in hand, and asking for work.
Now, if you think that I chose to come to Chile randomly, out of all the countries in Latin America, you’re only half right. It’s true, my main motivation for coming to the Other America was to learn Spanish, which I could conceivably do in any Spanish-speaking country. However, I would need to finance my stay in any potential country, and the best way for an aimless college graduate to do that is to teach English. Knowing this, I searched on the Internet for which countries would most want English teachers, and the answer, by far, was Chile.
You see, Chile has this governmental program to become bilingual by 2010. There is no way on this earth or any other alternate universe you might care to name that this will happen, but until then, companies and universities receive tax breaks when they place their employees in English classes. Add to this the fact that Chile has the most stable and robust economy in South America, and you have a country full of people clamoring to learn the language of business, English.
While Chile is a good place to teach English, it might not be the best place to learn Spanish. Compared to other South American peoples, Chileans speak very rapidly, with a strange accent and all sorts of inscrutable slang. Imagine trying to learn English from Groundskeeper Willie. By no means am I fluent, but I know a fair amount of Spanish, or least thought I did. When I first got here, three weeks ago, I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying. My ear is just starting to become accustomed to the Chilean voice, and I still have a very long way to go.
Starting a blog fills me with a certain amount of apprehension, as I can’t help but anticipate the day when my creativity runs dry and my readers are left hanging, unsated. Certainly I flatter myself by assuming that I’ll have readers, but that assumption will do much to provide motivation for continued writing. I’ve never been good at keeping a journal, likely because, for an insecure narcissist such as myself, writing without the possibility of an audience seems an exercise in futility. The potential for readers that a blog offers should, hopefully, keep both my imagination and my ego functioning, though whether or not this is a fair tradeoff is a question that I, on this end of the page, am in no position to answer.
