In the recent summer of 2018, I traveled 5000 miles to the South to live for two and a half months and study toward my Romance Studies and International Relations & Diplomacy majors. During my trip, I accustomed myself to the environment, got comfortable with the language, and profoundly developed my conception of the South American continent and especially of Chile.

I chose Chile because I believe that Latin America is critically underrepresented in the diet of media, news, and history that is most readily available where I live. I feel that despite the proximity of the continent, it’s much more likely for me to hear about something in Europe, Asia, or even Africa when I turn on the news, and it bothered me that even after studying the Spanish language from a young age, I only had a passing, neighborly relationship with even the closest Spanish-speaking communities, and precious little concept for the realities of those communities further south into Latin America. The solution of seeing for myself seemed obvious, considering that education abroad is a requirement for my major, and so that’s exactly what I did.

Talking about these projects as “transformational experiences” always struck me as cliché, and I’m still not entirely convinced that it isn’t, because you never know what kind of experience you will have until you go. I include this detail so that I do not miscommunicate my meaning when I say that my understanding of the South American continent, of the Spanish language, of the nation of Chile, of myself, and especially of the world underwent critical transformations during my time in Valparaíso. The city is one of art, of history, of engagement, and of a particular ferocity of human spirit coming together in a community the flavor of which I had never experienced. Even more, I was able to not only witness these realities, but I was a participant, and the people of the region were always eager to engage with somebody who wanted to hear their stories and connect to them.

I spent a lot of time in Valparaíso and the neighboring city of Viña del Mar. The two cities could hardly be more distinct, but they are blurred at the edges: where one ends and the other begins isn’t totally evident until you’re almost in the heart of either one. The unique energies of Valpo and Viña play off one another: they are opposite in qualities, but neither is fully defined without the other. The historical, artistic, romantic Valparaíso has fallen from grace since its days as a major port before the advent of the Panama Canal, but its history, culture, and creative drive are as alive as ever. The more modern Viña del Mar is striking as it can be seen from across the bay in Valparaíso with its massive buildings, hotels, resorts, and casino. The wealth of Viña del Mar on the coast masks an inland where living in metal shacks is not unusual, an allegory for the inequality that plagues the Chilean people.

The ardor I felt for knowing these cities was reflected back on me with the experiences with people I had. Everywhere I went, somebody had a story, and often they were more than happy to tell it, but I found out quickly that I had to engage with people. Our program coordinators told us that, in general, the locals would be interested in somebody obviously foreign and might engage with us, but no sooner had I internalized that than people started asking me for directions. I soon discovered that I looked more like a local than a gringo to other locals, and that I was going to have to try a little harder to interact.

I was inspired by these experiences to reach out and travel the region. Valparaíso and Viña del Mar share a single metro line, but it was shockingly inexpensive at the student rate and went inland to other smaller towns, so I went to those. The contrasts between the two big coastal cities and smaller towns and cities like Quilpué, Limache, and Quillota were wonderful, and the unique profiles of all of them were striking as well. Everywhere were different stories just waiting for somebody to hear them, and hear them I did. Toward the end of my time in Chile, I took a couple of day trips to the capital city of Santiago, and treated it with the same meandering, unplanned methods of experience that I used for the smaller towns. Nestled up to the Andes, Santiago has much more to see than those towns, but its treasures can only be uncovered individually, as in any other place, and so my experiences there were just as rewarding.

Going to Chile to learn the history, live the lifestyle, and participate in acquiring the lens with which the people of Chile see the world was a fundamentally moving experience. Part of my outlook, part of my identity will forever be tied to the places where I grew in Chile and to the people with whom I shared those experiences, especially. I hope in my heart of hearts to see another sunset on the coast in Valparaíso, but living there only showed me that before I get sentimental about the beauty of one city, I have many other experiences ahead of me. Living in Chile gave me the tools, the confidence, and the perspective that I know now that I needed before I could ever involve myself in more meaningful endeavors as I involve myself in Spanish-speaking communities. I am grateful to the people of Chile and do not hesitate now to truly define my STEP project as transformational.