El Dieciocho

After I came home from Chile I talked about how I found myself at the dieciocho. I have long since lost myself again. I sometimes imagine a transparent me waiting at bus stop eighteen for me to go pick him up again. So that is where I will start.

I lived in La Cisterna on La Gran Avenida above the eighteen for seven months. The Gran Avenida is one of the busiest streets in Santiago. We lived in a corner fourth story apartment above an intersection. The windows were always open because the summer was very hot and there was no air conditioning. When the light turned green and the busses proceeded through the intersection I would have to pretty much yell in order for the person next to me to understand over the first gears of all the busses. There was no need to set an alarm because the busses and the taxis tocando sus bocinas would wake me up, but I don’t ever remember really being annoyed at all the noise.

Just looking out the windows at all the people was enough entertainment to last all day long. And walking up and down the avenue was some of the most fun I had while in Chile. I remember when Colo-Colo won the Chilean Cup and the street filled with people and traffic could not get by. Hundreds of people flooded the street waving Colo-Colo flags and singing the club song and chanting, “C-H-I, Chi! L-E, Le! Chi-Chi-Chi! Le-Le-Le! Colo-Colo de Chile!” and the four of us joined in while hanging out our windows. We watched the crowd until the police were able to break it up so traffic could get by.

I saw eight different missionaries come and go while at the dieciocho. Four of them my own companions. Elders Huerta, Gonzalez, and Meza left the mission from the dieciocho. Elder Cordoba started there. I remember crying when Elder Huerta left. I remember getting so mad at Elder Wheatly for chewing SO loud, and then being even more angry when Elder Meza showed up and chewed even louder. I remember taking on Elder Campbell after Elder Meza went home, and while showing him around the sector the first day I puked on the side of the street from food poisoning, and had to stop at two different members houses that were less than a mile apart, so I could exlpode from both ends, before we made it back home. I remember climbing through a vent in our kitchen ceiling so we could get on our roof to see the Independence Day fireworks, and scream ‘Viva Chile!’ with the others on top of their roofs. I remember getting my Dear John on Christmas Eve and calling my family on Christmas day. We ate at Pizza Hut as a zone for our Christmas dinner. I remember Martes Loco at that same Pizza Hut where we would get 2 for 1 every Tuesday. I remember the four of us drinking mate (accent over the ‘e’. I don’t know how to do that on a computer) at night and telling each other about all the crazy people we met that day

It’s sad because all I can do now is remember. I am glad for the memories, but sometimes they just aren’t enough.