Summer is lingering. It's been a good year. But fall is nearly upon us, and with that turn in season arrives a (slightly) more somber air in the city of Santiago: school has begun. Fewer bare, browned shoulders. More pleated skirts and leg warmers over black Mary Janes. Luckily, for an estudiante de intercambio, like myself, the start to a new school year is nothing short of joyous.

For example, my first class this week took place at the Macul campus of la Universidad de Chile. Known for its frequent protests, tear gassings and Che-inspired activity, it is the place to be. (Most students know to carry potatoes -- ready to be sliced open and placed over the eyes -- to counteract the burning effect of the gas) The course: "Historia del Rock." Most classes that day were canceled, since the teachers didn't show, and the lawns were blanketed with lounging students, throwing back a few beers, sleeping or discussing life. Of course, my class was one of the few actually in session, but as it turned out, the class was painfully easy and the flustered, sweaty teacher didn't quite fulfill my image of the Chilean educational excellence I had imagined.

I spent the rest of the week dabbling in various courses on Mapuche culture and art, the poetry of Pablo Neruda and Gabriela Mistral, and poverty in the news. I have created quite the dreamy schedule. My weekend begins at 1:30 pm on Thursdays.

Food has been another primary topic of interest. I can't say Chilean food is my favorite cuisine, but it certainly has some interesting dishes. My breakfasts usually consist of cheese or meat hidden in a thick layering of mayonnaise and butter on white bread or a thick roll. It's a small step from the South Beach diet that lost Mr. Dick Strayer almost 15 pounds, but I haven't become a gordita... yet. I can always expect a slab of meat or fish for dinner, and sometimes an omelette or vegetable medley. But the foods I've enjoyed most have been the fruits.

I experienced my first pepino on Sunday. It is a fruit I've only seen here, in the mercado central. It looks rather like a cream colored persimmon, with purple markings like the stripes on a tiger. Inside, it has a thick, melon like flesh that leaves the most indescribable aftertaste. One which I cannot decide if I loathe or actually enjoy. That was the first of many new fruits (not to mention strange sausages with stretchy skin and somewhat questionable mayonnaise dishes)... another new experience was the tuna, what I always called a prickly pear or cactus fruit. It is exactly like a honeydew melon with a dense smattering of crunchy brown seeds inside. Sort of like gravel enmeshed in what would be a refreshing, light snack.

In any event, life in Chile is most enjoyable. Things seem to be structured around recreation and quality of life, putting work much below play on the list of priorities. Any feelings of stress have been gently washed away by the coordinators of my program. They tell me to go eat some ice cream and plan my classes some other day. So far, it's not working out too badly. I am going to Viña and Valparaiso for the weekend to bake my half-anglo whiteness into proper chilean piel. Two beautiful beach town perched on the rocky coast should do the trick.

Pues, chao for the moment. ¡Que les vaya muy bien este fin de semana!