Santiago as a Poet

by Julia Morgan

A recently proposed discussion question asked us to describe Chile as either poetic and poor, or modern and materialistic. From what we've seen so far in Santiago, I’d describe it as an intriguing twist of all four.

But mostly poetic.

Amongst all the intensity and busy-ness, there’s so many songs of beauty and goodness that serenade and harmonize in the streets and landscapes of this, what is to us, new and foreign city: the deep-colored Andes. The closed stores on Sundays. The aura of passion and creativity and brilliant colors in the local artwork. The rainbows of fruits and vegetables available on almost every street corner. The steady, warm breezes. The sunsets, oh, the sunsets..

And at first, it feels like everyone keeps to themselves here; while that is mostly the case, it’s not in an anti-communal way. No doubt that more listening happens as opposed to useless chatter. Quite the contrast when compared to the United States. I love it.

And you’ll discover still more beauty as you learn to embrace uncomfortable situations (like conversing in a foreign language) instead of tiptoeing around them.

I know I have.

Though I've taken about five years worth of Spanish classes, intimidation is still no stranger. But my confidence grows more and more with every victory here—even the small ones—like the other day when an older Chilean woman and I shared a laugh about how odd a certain pair of fluffy shorts looked, but agreed that they would be comfortable to wear. (I now own said fluffy shorts, just, so you know.)

It really doesn't matter how insignificant the topic of conversation. What matters is that interaction/connection happens. Borders are crossed. We accept the invitation to be bold. And Jesus meets us there. Hallelujah.