Cambiante

The weather's been quite cambiante as of late. Changeable. Fickle. Doesn't know what it wants. We'll have days of pewter dull clouds that linger, merging with the brooding waves, dampening plans and moods. Then de repente, out of nowhere, a sparkling sunny day sapphire sky sailing wisps of white appears, a day that lends itself to long meandering walks just to soak up the warmth you've missed for so long or maybe some yoga on the beach with friends you've only known for four months and who are probably leaving soon.

And then there are the temporales, the fierce ocean winds that bring walls of relentless water from the clouds, indifferent to your daily routine. Those are the days that mostly lend themselves to huddling up under all six blankets on your bed in front of the gas heater to drink hot tea while listening sleepily to the rain lashing at your window. All day.

Unless of course, you have an early morning literature class. Which I did, up until about two weeks ago. Indeed it was our last day of Practices and Discourses of the Modern Latin American Short Story when I experienced my first temporal. My host dad gleefully watched me bundle up in boots, scarf, coat, grab my umbrella and face the rage outside. Que te vaya bien!! Chao, chao! he called as usual as I headed out. Have a good day! Bye! Except today, considering the conditions outside, it sounded a little more like, Good luck with all that. Not in a mean spirited way, just in a tone of extreme amusement. Luckily, I was late enough leaving so that the ascensor was already opening up. I was more or less soaked by the time I got to the bus stop across the street. That's alright, I thought, once I get to Valparaíso I just have to make it to the university building and then I'm totally good.

The plan of Valparaiso, the level downtown area home to the university, government buildings, and Valpo's infamous nightlife, was created in the 1800s by when authorities began filling in the bay with dirt, claiming hundreds of yards of ocean to build up the port city. The ocean hasn't forgotten what is Hers, however, and that was instantly apparent as I rounded the corner.I had pondered all semester what drainage in Valpo would be like, and turns out my imagination wasn't far off. "Making it to the university" involved wading through a perpetual path of puddles several inches deep, followed by a final dash across the newly formed lake that had engulfed the sidewalk leading to the only entrance to the building housing my class. When I finally straggled into class, thirty minutes late, I was completely drenched, despite my knee high boots, long hooded raincoat, and umbrella (along with everyone else, who also arrived late). We spent the last lit class all huddled around a space heater before venturing out again to return home...

My mind's been cambiante too. Mostly I can't decide what to think about this semester or where to go from here. Much like the rest of my liberal arts education, it's left me with more questions than answers, more doubts than certainties. But in this last few days I've found myself suddenly able to see beauty in my experiences, in the friendships I've begun, in the sparkly sunny days like today and even in the many sad and cloudy and lonely days. Here's to possibilities.