Red Sari, Samosas and a Chiloé Christmas

Chiloé is the island in southern Chile where I spent four months teaching English to children at a government school in Castro, the island’s capital. I was there through the English Open Doors programme, EODP, which sends volunteers from around the world to different corners of the country.

My application had put the south near the top of my location preferences, and I got exactly what I asked for: the coldest part of that long, thin country. The school came with a host family. Cecilia, my host mother, ran a word-of-mouth Airbnb, and her household was made up of regular boarders, the EODP volunteers and her own family.

Learning to live in Spanish

Days were spent teaching. Evenings belonged to Cecilia and the other volunteers, or to reading and writing. Living on an island where almost everyone spoke only Spanish was not easy: I practised the common Spanish words and phrases from the moment I woke until I went to bed.

Two people made the difference – the other volunteers, and a Chilean boarder with good English who translated in both directions without complaint. Before long I was buying groceries alone and taking collectivos, the shared taxis, with no help at all.

November: the long way round

When the programme ended I set off to see more places in Chile. I left Chiloé in November, having arrived in August, and headed for Pucon, the country’s adventure town. I climbed Villarica volcano, swam in the lake below it, and cooked pasta and curries in the hostel so that we could eat them in the treehouse. From there came Santiago, Puerto Varas, Osorno and Puerto Montt, and eventually a return to Chiloé for a summer camp in Castro.

The camp meant a week of outdoor activities in English with pupils from three different schools. The sun was out, jackets came off in the afternoon, and everyone had a good time.

A tree in the hall

Then Christmas arrived. My original plan was to travel on Christmas Day, reach Santiago before New Year and start looking for work, extending my stay in Chile – or somewhere else in South America – for as long as I could. Al, an English volunteer who had lived with us and was now home with his family, told me on the phone not to leave Chiloé for Christmas. I listened, reluctantly, and stayed.

Cecilia, who is Catholic, always filled the house with her daughter’s family and other people on special days. I promised to make homemade Indian samosas for the meal. She put up a Christmas tree in the hall, beside the wooden staircase that led to the rooms upstairs, which we all shared along with one bathroom.

The tree fascinated me. Golden and green bells and stars, presents in bright packets and shiny green paper placed underneath weeks in advance, and a golden light on it day and night.

Christmas Eve, in red

What I had not accounted for was the job hunt. Applications, emails and calls to line up English teaching interviews in Santiago swallowed my time, and the samosas never happened. Instead of keeping my promise, I decided on a different surprise: the red sari I had brought from India.

On Christmas Eve I put it on with a black blouse. Then nerves got the better of me and I messaged Al from upstairs to say I did not want to go down. He replied that I must look good, so down I went, glass bangles jingling, golden jhumkas in my ears, lipstick matched to the sari.

Cecilia’s reaction was worth the nerves. She said that dressing in my traditional clothes was the best gift I could give her, and her daughter took photographs to show colleagues at the office.

The table

We gathered around the dining table in the hall. On it:

• stuffed chicken
• Spanish paella with crab
• marraqueta and sopaipillas with cheese, the Chilean breads
• mashed potatoes
• tres leches cake
• wine and champagne, poured freely

The weather was warm, and our small corner of the house felt cosier than it ever had.

Presents

We could all see our names on the packages but had no idea what was inside, which made the unwrapping the best part. I had added a long parcel for Cecilia under the tree only the day before. Taking turns, we found a painting, a photo frame, clothes and food. My gift was a thick pair of pyjamas, exactly right for the Chilean cold. Cecilia was so pleased with the wooden wall hanging I gave her that she hugged me tightly.

It was such a happy night that I felt foolish for ever having planned to leave before Christmas. Being folded into another family’s biggest festival, sharing their food and exchanging presents as they did, gave me a feeling of family very far from home. I was grateful to be there.

I still show that Christmas photograph to people who ask where I have travelled. It was only much later, when a friend said I had been like their Santa that day, that I realised I had been wearing his colour.

About the author

Priyanka Gupta is an itinerant writer from India who left a career in investment banking to travel and write. She looks for culturally immersive, offbeat trips, local food and wildlife, and prefers sustainable experiences driven by local communities. She reads, writes and blogs full-time; in her spare time she runs, cooks or daydreams. More of her work is on her personal growth and travel blog, On My Canvas. You can follow her on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter for live updates.