Spring, spring, that's my thing...

...flowers and birds and...oh, I've forgotten the words.

Raise your hand if you played Recess in Greece as a kid. No one? I was the only dork really into Greek Mythology? Well, that's Persephone's song, the Goddess of Spring. I can also recall other songs...like "Little old wine maker me! That's Dionysus, with a D!" Oh man. My memory is strange.

But back to the main topic.

I'm a sucker for spring. It's my favorite season by far. In Vermont, I love the sounds it makes, it's smells (I love the smell of mud!) and the warm weather it brings. This will be my first spring in Chile and I'm really excited.

Why am I talking about spring when it's summer in the Northern Hemisphere and winter down here? Well it's been about 65 degrees here yesterday and today, and darn it, it feels like spring. And it has made my mood SOAR. I am happy as a clam, or feliz como lombriz, if you prefer.

To top it all off, I hear my favorite micro music ensemble play on my way to class (yay panpipes!) and my favorite micro accordion player on the way home from class. Nothing lifts my mood like panpipes, accordions and spring.

Oh, and I found out that I don't have class on Saturday! Yay for a real weekend. Life is good.

Dude, get some headphones

It may be many things, but riding a micro in Santiago is never boring. There are usually various forms of "entertainment", from the clapping man (shudder) to rastas playing bongos, to really talented folkloric groups.

However, there is nothing, NOTHING more annoying than listening to someone's cell phone play crappy music on the micro. And crappy it always is, whether it's reggaeton, heavy metal or latin love ballads. I have no idea why, but for some reason it's cool to play music on one's cell phone. At first I thought maybe these people couldn't afford to buy headphones, but then I realized (when I got a phone with an mp3 player myself) that these phones come with headphones. Okay, so maybe they lost the headphones and can't afford to buy them. Doubtful. Those cell phones are expensive, so unless they've stolen it (which could be the case), then they can afford to buy headphones. And if it is indeed stolen, why not steal some headphones too while you're at it?

So basically, there is no excuse not to have headphones.

But yet EVERY DAY I have to listen to some stranger's crappy music on the micro. It's something about the enclosed space, lots of people and that annoying music blaring out of bad quality speakers that makes me want to grab the person's phone and throw it out the window. Either that, or throw myself out the window!

Does this happen in the US or other places? Do people listen to the music on their cell phones without headphones? Does it drive anyone else bananas?

The perils of wet hair in Chile (and other temperature related items)

Lydia just posted about some strange beliefs that Chileans have when it comes to temperature and health. I have to admit, the sideways face effect is the strangest one!

However, I can assure you, Chileans are obsessed with not getting cold. The reason I have so many apparatuses to keep me warm is that my host mom is insistent that neither Sara nor I be cold.

Also, wet hair in the winter is considered a fatal recipe for getting sick. Never mind that when I was in middle school I used to wait for the bus in -20 degrees Fahrenheit (-29 degrees C) with hair so wet that icicles would form. Now, if I go out and it's 55 degrees F and my hair is a bit damp, it's guaranteed that I'll get pneumonia or the flu. Everyone is always telling me, "Sécate el pelo Abby!!" ("Abby, dry your hair!") This is what I want to tell them:

DO YOU REALIZE HOW LONG IT TAKES TO DRY MY HAIR???

Well, I do. You see, in high school I wanted to curl my hair for the Winter Ball. The problem was, I had to milk the cows (not joking) the day of Winter Ball. Unfortunately, cow manure has never been a fashionable perfume scent, and so I had to take a shower before doing my hair. In order to tell my uncle how early I would have to leave from milking (he got me a replacement, but not for the whole time), I had to calculate how long I would need to completely dry my hair. So a few days before the Winter Ball, I took a shower and then immediately started drying my hair. It took almost ONE HOUR. Since then, I've never compeletly dried my hair.

But I do admit that I've started partially drying it, just on the top so that I pass piola (so nobody notices). Today I did just that because I was going to have lunch with the host family. Drying my hair is hard work, plus I had hot hair blowing on me, so my face got a little red. So I arrived and everyone starts yelling at me, "Abby, desabrigate! No hace frío! Y estás roja!" (Abby, take off some layers! It's not cold out! And you're so red!)

I can never win.

I really do.

Teaching English in Chile isn't all rainbows and ponies, smiles and laughter. There are tough students who question everything.

Student: My sister has thirteen years and...

Me: Your sister is thirteen...

Student: Like I said, my sister has thirteen years...

Me: No, you're sister doesn't have years, she is thirteen years old.

Student: But why? In Spanish it's mi hermana tiene trece años."

Me: You can't translate directly. In English we are our age, we don't have it.

Student: Aghhh! Why is everything so difficult?

And then you have your stuffy business men who make their political leanings known the very first class.

Student: What do you think about the coup in Honduras?

Me: Uummmm, well in general I'm not in favor of military interventions, I think that things should be resolved democratically.

Student: You are so naiive!!! Sometimes the military just has to intervene. Especially when the things are going towards the red side, if you know what I mean.

Me: Uuuuuuh.

But then there are the moments that make you say, I love my job.

Like during a taboo game (the word is gorgeous):

Team: An adjective! Really beautiful!

Student Guessing: Uhh...pretty! No, good-looking! No...attractive!

Team: No!! Jorge, but in English!

Student Guessing: George...

Team: Yeah! Beautiful! With that name!

Student Guessing: Beautiful George.....GEORGEOUS!!!!

The perils of staying warm in Chile

It's cold today, folks. Well, the high is 41 (degrees Fahrenheit) for today, which is notably colder than the highs of 60s that we had last week. Everyone from Vermont (or other similar northern states) is thinking, "That girl's gone soft! I wear shorts in 41 degree weather!" But before you judge, remember that in Chile THERE IS NO HEAT. So if it's 41 degrees outside, it's not much warmer than that inside. Brrrrrrr.

Due to this lack of heat, Chileans have various methods of staying warm. Some have (illegal) wood stoves whose ashes cause the garbage to ignite. Some use gas space heaters like this one:
While others use the Toyotomi, which runs of paraffin and is supposedly the best.


And at night, to warm up the bed, people either use the low tech but highly effective guatero (hot water bottle) or a scaldosono which is like a gigantic electric heating pad that goes between your bed and the sheets.

In my bedroom I have a gas stove and a scaldosono, which do a lovely job of keeping me warm. However, they also require me to remember TO SHUT THEM OFF. Scary. I only left the pilot light of the stove on once and luckily Ita came up to drop off some clothes, noticed, and turned it off.

I rarely use my scaldosono because I figure I'm getting into bed with five blankets on top of me and I'll warm up soon enough. But last night was really cold, so I turned it on a few minutes before getting into bed. My plan was to watch TV for a bit, then shut it off and go to bed.

However, I fell asleep watching TV and somehow in my half asleep state managed to turn the TV off. A few hours later though, I woke up sweating buckets. I had no idea why I was so hot. Then I remembered. The scaldosono!

So that's how yesterday's firewoman almost turned into a firestarter. I tell you, it's dangerous staying warm here in Chile.

Just call me firewoman

It was a typical Sunday afternoon, really (except for the fact that I made corn chowder, which is anything but typical for She Who Does Not Like to Cook) and I was chatting with my parents on Skype.

All of a sudden, I noticed a funny reflection out of the corner of my eye, looked out my window and saw FLAMES.

I immediately yelled "Dad, I gotta go! I'll call you back!" and went running outside to the front patio, where the garbage was on fire.

Screaming "Sara! Sara! Come help!" I ran back into the house and started filling a pot with water in the kitchen sink while Sara used the bathroom sink. Unfortunately the biggest pot was occupied (see corn chowder above). But nonetheless, with about 4 pots of water, the fire was doused. It wasn't until later that I realized the garden hose was right next to the fire and it would have been way more efficient just to hose the whole thing down. Oh well.

I think the ashes from my host family's wood stove are to blame. Either that or there was a match that was still slightly lit.

After, there was a huge mess of wet ashes and half-burned trash to clean up. It smelled like rotting poop, but Sara and I managed to clean everything.

I'm just glad we were home. The fire was pretty far from the house, but there's a chance it could have spread.

Time for a change

I've been considering moving out of the casita for awhile now. It's small and lacks any sort of space to entertain. I can't count the number of times when I would have liked to have some people over but couldn't unless my guests would be okay with freezing their butts off on the patio in the middle of winter. Brrrrr.

Plus, as much as I love my host family, I'm ready to really live on my own. Yes, this will mean doing my own laundry and cleaning, but hey, I've done that for YEARS in the U.S. so I know I can handle it. I will be able to leave my room a mess and not feel guilty about it because I'll be the only one responsible.

So, I'm looking for an apartment! If anyone has any datos, send them this-a-way! I'm looking for a one-bedroom, probably unfurnished and ideally I wouldn't like to pay much more than $200.000/month, including gastos comunes. I'm flexible about location, although it must be in a safe neighborhood and ideally near a metro (although I would consider Ñuñoa if it's north of Irarrazaval and the price is right).

I'm excited and scared about this, but I think I'm ready.

Back to the Future

Lots of things freak me out. Pretty high up on the list is thinking about my future. I am sure that I don't want to be an English teacher for the rest of my life, although I am enjoying it right now. For awhile I thought maybe I wanted to work in the study abroad field--maybe as an adviser or teacher or program director. Then I thought maybe I could get a Masters in Education. I really do like teaching, but I don't like teaching children. So maybe I could teach high school. Ideally, I would like to teach college-age students, but you usually need a Ph.D. for that, and I swore to myself I would never spend my whole life in Academia. I prefer the real world, thank you very much.

Then the other day I had what I thought was an excellent idea. I love language, and specifically I love phonetics and pronunciation. In fact, whenever I do a pronunciation exercise in class, I get giddy. Strange, I know. So then I thought: I could be a Speech Pathologist!

However, because I didn't get my degree in Communication Sciences, and took almost no science classes in college, I would most likely have to do a 2 year post-baccalaureate program before I could enter the 2 year Masters Program. That's FOUR MORE YEARS OF SCHOOL. Scary, both academically and financially.

Although I need a lot more time to think about this, Speech Pathology really appeals to me. Yes, it would mean taking math and science, but even though I don't particularly like those subjects, I was never bad at them (at least back in High School). In fact, I won the Chemistry Award my junior year. So, it wouldn't be so terrible.

For the first time, the thought of going to grad school doesn't make me want to jump out the nearest window, which I'm sure is the right direction towards figuring out what my future will bring.

Pinpas

Yesterday I was walking down 11 de Septiembre and a journalist from TVN (the national TV station) with a camera man approached me and asked, "Sabes lo que es un 'pinpas'?" (Do you know what a 'pinpas' is?) I said no and continued on my way. I asked F., who was with me, if he knew. He didn't. At the time I thought maybe it was a type of animal that inhabits the Pampas, but I really had no clue.

Then I promptly forgot about the whole thing.

I was just eating lunch when I got this text message from F.: "Ya sé que es el "Pin Pass!" (I now know what the Pin Pass is!)

This was my response: "Quee?" (Whaaaat?)

I had NO clue what he was talking about. I thought maybe he had made a mistake and sent the message to the wrong person. Then I stared at the words "Pin Pass" and said them quickly, as if I were a Chilean. What do you know? Pinpas. This made me remember yesterday and the questioning TV journalist.

Wouldn't you know, I can't even recognize my own language. I go around imaginging small animals that inhabit the plains of Argentina instead of a way to pay with a credit card without having to show your carnet and sign, which, by the way, I think is a great idea and one step towards more efficiency in Chile.

I'm all for the Pinpas...err...Pin Pass.

Que Lindo! ...wait, why?

On Saturday some gringas and Chileans were talking about how Chileans tend to think it's so cute and endearing when gringos use Chilean slang. I've experienced this a lot, despite the fact that I try not to use "cachai" and "po" (it sometimes slips out). However, I do use a lot of other Chilean expressions because that's how I learned to speak, and most of the time don't even realize that what I'm saying is "Chilean".

Case in point. Chileans shorten the common expression "para nada" (meaning "not at all") to "pa na". This is how I hear it, so this is how I say it too. It sounds funny to me to pronounce the whole thing. Last weak during a break, one of my students asked me something in Spanish and I responded, "No! Pa na." And the entire group of students said, "Mira! Eres toda una chilena. Que linda." (Look! You're such a Chilean. How cute.) I got the same reaction the next class when at the end of the break I told them, "Ya, chiquillos, vámonos" (Okay, guys, let's go) because apparently "chiquillos" is very Chilean (Santiaguino, even, acording to some).

My friends also think it's cute when I say things that just come out so naturally, like "altiro" or "guagua". I have one friend who literally squeezes my cheeks when I say thing like that, because he finds it so charming.

I really don't mind all this attention, but I find it puzzling.

You see, in the US I have had various friends whose first language was not English, but never once did it occur to me to tell them it was cute when they used slang or expressions that were typical to the Northeast. When they proclaimed it was "wicked hot" outside an wanted to go for a "creamee" it never even occured to me to say, "Awww! Look! You're learning the local lingo. HOW CUTE!" In fact, I don't even think I noticed.

Sleeping in

I just read Kyle's post about the 10 things she wished she could tell her past self. Well, there is no way I can think of 10 things (or even 8!) but I can think of one.

It is okay to sleep in.

I grew up on a farm, where things need to be done early in the morning. Cows need to be milked, calves need to be fed (and born!) and fields need to be planted/plowed/harvested. And all of this started around 5:30am, sometimes earlier. This means that every other weekend, throughout most of high school, I woke up at 5:00am to feed the calves. Other days of course I had to get up for school, but on the four days a month I could sleep in, I usually couldn't.

I also had a horse from ages 10-18, so I always felt guilty not getting up and feeding her in a timely manner. I remember the horrible feeling of waking up to her hungry whinny (and could she ever whinny when she was hungry!) at around 10:30 am. Ooooh the guilt.

So I guess for my younger self, it wasn't okay to sleep in.

But then in college, it was okay, most days (since I usually worked my schedule so I didn't have class before, say noon!). But still that guilt and obligation to get up and work lived on. And it's not like I'm a morning person AT ALL. In fact, it's hard for me to even talk to people in the morning. I prefer one word answers or silence.

In Chile, sleeping in on the weekends is not only socially acceptable, it's expected! And currently (knock on wood) I have a schedule that works for my nocturnal habits for the entire week. I can stay up until 3:00am if I want, and sleep until 11 or 12 and still be on time for work. It's GLORIOUS.

So now I leave you, dear readers (hello there you from Valdivia!) because it's time for me to have breakfast. Yes, breakfast at 11:30 am. :)

Temptation

On my walk to the grocery store today, I realized lots of things. First of all, I realized that I've been so busy in the past month that I haven't walked to the grocery store in a long time. I've gotten by through buying a few things here, and a few things there, and going to the Ekono two blocks away for the essentials.

I was also tempted by many-a thing. First I was tempted to watch the aftermath of a choque (car crash) with my capuchenta (gossipy) neighbor. But then I realized that a) if it wasn't a big car crash, it wouldn't be interesting and b) if it were a big car crash with blood and guts I didn't really want to see it anyway. So I continued on my way.

Then I realized how nice it was outside. Wearing only a longsleeved shirt and a fleece (and pants too!...none of that now) I was getting a bit warm. Then I was tempted to think it was spring. But it's only the beggining of July and nos queda rato todavia (winter's going to be here for awhile). I also realized that I always think in Spanish.

Then I arrived to the grocery store and THEY WERE GIVING AWAY PUPPIES. Not even joking. I wanted one so bad. There was this cute little black and brown one that was licking me all over and I just wanted to die of happiness, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) my rational brain kicked in and said, "You have no time to be a puppy mother." So I put the little bugger down and entered the store.

You're going to think I'm kidding, but as soon as I walk inside, what do I see that is onsale? CHOCOLATE. So not the Sahne-Nuss or Trencito that I usually buy, but still good chocolate. This time I caved. Now I am the proud owner of two (okay one and a half by now) bars of chocolately goodness. Yumm.

I guess it was better to give into the chocolate temptation than the puppy temptation. As for the strange weather, if it keeps up like this, I'll have no choice but to think that spring is on it's way.

It's been awhile...

It looks like I inadvertently took a little blogging hiatus! Oops. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'm still grossed out by that random guy kissing me and paranoid about getting the swine flu or really any type of flu. Or maybe it's because I have a stack of TOEFL essays to grade for my students (by tomorrow) and felt bad doing anything non-productive until then. Or maybe it's because the time I didn't spend teaching class or out with my friends this weekend was spent in bed watching The L Word online.

But anyway, I'm back.

Except I don't know what to write about. I could write about how I accidentally discovered how to make Spaghetti-Os (minus the O-shaped noodles), but I doubt anyone except me likes Spaghetti-Os (comment if you do, maybe I'll include it in a later post). I could write about how I accidentally went to a Heavy Metal concert last Thursday (I really should have known...the band is called Maldición...a dead giveaway according to F.)

Speaking of F., maybe this would be a good time to give a shout out to his brand-spanking knew company Ingenieria en Sonido, which he started with his friend and classmate. If anyone who reads this needs anything, and I mean anything to do with audio, sound, recording, acoustics, etc. etc., these are your guys. They are both really talented, hard-working and good people to do business with. So check out their website or facebook page (in Spanish).

And with that my friends, I sign off. I'll try not to take many more unplanned blogging hiatuses. But hey, at least I discovered Spaghetti-O's in the process. Yummm.

Bubble popped

I was talking with my students the other day about cultural differences and one student asked me if it was true that in NYC, if you reach out and touch someone on the street to get their attention, they get mad and yell at you. I wasn't sure (does anyone from NYC know?), having only been there about five times and never touching anyone on the arm who wasn't a relative or a close friend. But that brought up the topic of personal space and made me think of Margaret's post about just that.

I explained to my students that in the U.S., one's "personal bubble" is larger than in Chile, or I'd say Latin American in general. When talking, people stand farther apart. We don't kiss each other on the cheek when greeting, and we feel uncomfortable when strangers enter the bubble. My students laughed at my description (probably in part because I use lots of funny hand gestures and looked like an idiot) but said they kind of understood. But really, no cheek kisses? Nope, no cheek kisses.

Then I realized how I've gotten used to being really close (sometimes smashed against if we're talking about rush hour) to random strangers, whether on the metro, the micro, or walking down the ridiculously narrow sidewalks of Santiago Centro. Today on the hellish metro ride from Baquedano to Moneda at 6:30pm I used some guy practically as a handrail and he didn't seem to mind. And I didn't particularly mind the guy behind me who was giving me a bearhug.

That being said, I think my personal bubble was definitely invaded today, no matter what culture you're from. I was walking down Bosque Norte after a private class, kind of spacing out and staring into space. Apparently a young Chilean man thought I was staring at him. So he raised his eyebrows at me, said "Hola linda" and then tried to kiss me smack on the mouth, but missed and hit my cheek. All this while we were both walking. I kind of yelped and jumped to the side as the young man just laughed and continued on his way.