Chile is directly south of the east coast of the United States, which means that despite the 11 hour flight it took to get here, I remain in the same GMT time zone as most of my friends and family (until Daylight Savings Time practices in each country push us 1, then 2 hours apart). The closeness in time is incredibly helpful in feeling close to my loved ones in the U.S. It really doesn’t feel so far away when you’re running on the same clock.
What I didn’t expect (or remember, I guess), was how disorienting it is to change hemispheres. The calendar hanging next to my front door tells me that it’s June, but the cold, rainy weather and continued quarantine have me convinced it’s March. The absence of normal routines, schedules, and celebrations mean that there are few reminders that the months are actually passing by, even though we have been in Chile for 7 months now.
I have never been in Chile in June. It was a month of long nights and soaking rains, of settling in and finding our rhythm, of timing my laundry days with the sunny days, and of looking a little more closely at the place we haven’t left in the last 14 weeks.
True Story: Chile 