Home Sweet Temporary Home

Tea brewing on the stove. Chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. My choice of music in the air (tonight it’s Cowboy Junkies’ Trinity Session, a welcome change from the ever-present Latin pop of the world outside). Familiar faces smiling at me from the fridge. Treasured possessions emerging from the suitcase they’ve lived in for the past six weeks and assuming a long-awaited place on a nearby wall or bookshelf.

We have a home. There is nothing quite like having a place of our own after having fit ourselves into other people’s lives and worlds for a while. Our 1-bedroom apartment is conveniently located one block away from Punta Arenas’ main street and downtown, on a street called Croatia, in a neighborhood called the Croatian District. Punta Arenas has a sizeable Croatian-descended population, which at its peak in the early 1900´s comprised 40% of the city’s population. The names of the city’s inhabitants, streets, and local businesses still reflect this: Margarita Mergudich, Maria Teresa Jotrovich, Esteban Capkovich, Juan Rajcevich, Jurisich Bogoslav, and many more. Posters and calendars of the Croatian island of Zadar cover the walls of the family-run laundromat where I drop off my clothes.

Our apartment has two rooms: a bedroom (with adjoining bathroom) and a kitchen/living/dining room. We’re on the second floor, and a north-facing window extends across the apartment, providing us with good light all day long. There’s a yard below where we can store our bikes. And looking down Croatia Street, we have a view of the Straits and the mountains of Tierra del Fuego.

Some things I brought from home that make my immediate environment more familiar:

--Eastern Sierra calendar, bought last summer while camping with Meg, Laura and Stuart
--The Angelica Home Kitchen cookbook from Krikor
--RAN canvas bag for stemming the tide of plastic bags while out shopping
--Red Sox keychain, bought at Fenway Park with Ellen and Diane
--Fridge magnet from Spud’s Pizza in Berkeley (right by the Borneo Project)
--Baking essentials such as measuring cups and spoons, baking powder, baking soda, chocolate chips, dried cranberries, and maple syrup
--My 800-degree rubber spatula (now on its 2nd trip to South America—I don’t leave home without it)
--Peanut butter (the natural kind)
--Assortment of favorite teas

I’m also settling into the routine of life here, which is making the cultural adjustment easier. Knowing that most stores and businesses close between 1-4pm, I make sure to get essential errands done in the morning and the rest done once the stores open again. Knowing that the post office doesn’t sell anything besides stamps, I first stop at a nearby papeleria (paper store) to buy an envelope and tape to seal my package. I now know which internet cafes are the fastest and cheapest, as well as when is the best time to check email (at 9am, I’ve got the place virtually to myself, which also means I’m not surrounded by smokers). I’ve learned that some items can be found in unlikely places—for example, bed linens sold in what appeared to be an electronics store. And some things can almost never be found, such as toilet paper in bathrooms. (Carrying a travel pack of Kleenex in my backpack is a simple enough remedy).

While these are small victories, they have done wonders to erode the frustration and inefficiency I’d felt in my first month here. I think I’m finally getting into the swing of things. Plus, now that I’m armed with 5 pounds of Patagonian wool, there’ll always be something to keep me busy during the inevitable waiting periods. I almost can’t wait to wait.