And today it hit me.
I am a grown up.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Okay, but seriously. By all definitions of the word, I'm an adult. I am over 18, I have a real job that pays me money, I have an apartment, I have to pay bills, buy groceries, figure out my own health insurance and remember to lock the door, shut off the lights and turn off the gas.
And not to toot my own horn, but I do this ALL IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY.
But to be honest, I don't think about the fact that I'm in a foreign country that much. The other day I was talking to my mom and she was wondering what to do with all the furniture she had saved for my first apartment, so I guess I've had to (and will keep having to) buy more stuff because of that.
Also I've of course worried about the infamous lack of customer service here in Chile, but (knock on wood) I've had excellent luck so far. In fact, my luck continued today when VTR was very prompt in responding to my request for internet.
I was afraid the language barrier would be a problem, but besides not understanding the delivery guys very well or asking the VTR lady to repeat stuff over the phone, nothing too drastic has gotten in my way.
So to sum, I feel like a superstar. I imagine this feeling will last until I have to pay my first round of bills in about two weeks. But for now, I'll just enjoy the euphoria.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
All moved in!
I'm all moved into my new apartment! Woo!
That being said, I feel like I'm living in a hotel. I have half-unpacked suitcases everywhere, nothing on the walls, and NO furniture in the living/dining room. It echoes.
I currently don't have internet, so I'm at Starbucks right now getting an online fix. Today in class my students and I were talking about the Internet and whether or not we were "Internet addicts" and I realized that I am. During the week it's not that big of a deal, but unless I have a really busy weekend, I like to have downtime to catch up on blogs, facebook and the world news (yes, in that order!) Plus, I rely on it to communicate with my friends and family and I've felt really disconnected for the past few days without it.
Anyway, this was just a quick note to say that I'm all settled, but blogging will most likely be light for the next few days until I get internet in my apartment. That is, unless I cave and come to Starbucks all the time, which may be likely.
Oh, and check out the night view from my apartment.
To the Southeast
To the East
That being said, I feel like I'm living in a hotel. I have half-unpacked suitcases everywhere, nothing on the walls, and NO furniture in the living/dining room. It echoes.
I currently don't have internet, so I'm at Starbucks right now getting an online fix. Today in class my students and I were talking about the Internet and whether or not we were "Internet addicts" and I realized that I am. During the week it's not that big of a deal, but unless I have a really busy weekend, I like to have downtime to catch up on blogs, facebook and the world news (yes, in that order!) Plus, I rely on it to communicate with my friends and family and I've felt really disconnected for the past few days without it.
Anyway, this was just a quick note to say that I'm all settled, but blogging will most likely be light for the next few days until I get internet in my apartment. That is, unless I cave and come to Starbucks all the time, which may be likely.
Oh, and check out the night view from my apartment.
To the Southeast
To the EastWednesday, August 26, 2009
Living solita...almost as bad as wet hair
So I'm moving tomorrow to my new apartment to live (cue dark and ominous music) alone. Today I went out to greet our nana, Gloria, and she said, "Abby!!! I found out you were leaving us! To live all alone! Aren't you sad? Who is going to clean for you? Who is going to make your bed? You're going to have to make all your own food!"
So granted her reaction was probably the most anguished I've heard so far, I've been met with various degrees of surprise/awe from a variety of people in my life when I've told them I'm going to be living alone. "Solita? De verdad?" (All alone? Really?) is the response I get most often.
There are a few explanations that I can think of. The first and foremost is that I am young by Chilean standards. At my age, most Chileans are still in college and the vast majority still have about 5 years of living with their parents ahead of them. The reasons for this are complex and mostly related to money, but I'll save that for another post. The fact that I'm living alone at such a young age is surprising to most Chileans, perhaps just as surprising as the fact that I left my family thousands of kilometers away to live in Chile.
I'm sure most people are also concerned for my safety, which is sweet of them. I too am always concerned about my safety, so that makes a lot of us worrying about me getting robbed or worse. However, I purposefully picked an apartment less than one block from the metro in a neighborhood that is quite active with lots of people around. No dark alleys or side streets for me! Plus, my friend lives in the same building so that's always comforting. I should also probably add that my building has 24 hour doormen and I have a deadbolt lock on my door. See? I really am concerned for my safety.
My last theory is linguistic in nature. In Spanish the word for alone and lonely are the same: solo. In English the two words are obviously related, but it's very clear when you're talking about one or the other. The fact that the word is the same in Spanish reflects perhaps a cultural need to be accompanied (acompañado). Although most times from context you can tell whether a person is talking about being alone or being lonely, there is obviously a deeper connection between the ideas in Spanish than in English.
Anyhow, I wrote this blog post while seriously procrastinating the packing job I am facing today. I'll probably be without internet for a few days, so bear with me if the blogging is light, and wish me luck. After all, this is my first time living solita.
So granted her reaction was probably the most anguished I've heard so far, I've been met with various degrees of surprise/awe from a variety of people in my life when I've told them I'm going to be living alone. "Solita? De verdad?" (All alone? Really?) is the response I get most often.
There are a few explanations that I can think of. The first and foremost is that I am young by Chilean standards. At my age, most Chileans are still in college and the vast majority still have about 5 years of living with their parents ahead of them. The reasons for this are complex and mostly related to money, but I'll save that for another post. The fact that I'm living alone at such a young age is surprising to most Chileans, perhaps just as surprising as the fact that I left my family thousands of kilometers away to live in Chile.
I'm sure most people are also concerned for my safety, which is sweet of them. I too am always concerned about my safety, so that makes a lot of us worrying about me getting robbed or worse. However, I purposefully picked an apartment less than one block from the metro in a neighborhood that is quite active with lots of people around. No dark alleys or side streets for me! Plus, my friend lives in the same building so that's always comforting. I should also probably add that my building has 24 hour doormen and I have a deadbolt lock on my door. See? I really am concerned for my safety.
My last theory is linguistic in nature. In Spanish the word for alone and lonely are the same: solo. In English the two words are obviously related, but it's very clear when you're talking about one or the other. The fact that the word is the same in Spanish reflects perhaps a cultural need to be accompanied (acompañado). Although most times from context you can tell whether a person is talking about being alone or being lonely, there is obviously a deeper connection between the ideas in Spanish than in English.
Anyhow, I wrote this blog post while seriously procrastinating the packing job I am facing today. I'll probably be without internet for a few days, so bear with me if the blogging is light, and wish me luck. After all, this is my first time living solita.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Okay so maybe I live under a rock...
...but I don't get Twitter. Do the famous people actually write their tweets? Or do they hire someone to update their Twitter page for them? Because if they actually update their own, that's way cool. But if not, LAME.
P.S. I think we need to stage an intervention, because I'm considering joining Twitter. I seriously don't need another distraction on the internet. Gah.
P.S. I think we need to stage an intervention, because I'm considering joining Twitter. I seriously don't need another distraction on the internet. Gah.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Two points for Chile
Saturday morning I had to wake up earlier than I do during the week (okay, so not that early, but I'm not a morning person) to go to my new apartment and wait for the delivery of my bed and refrigerator. I was somewhat dreading this, as the man (boy? he was like 12) at Homecenter who sold me the bed said that it would be delivered any time between 9:00 am and 3:00 pm. I just imagined myself, sitting on the floor of my empty apartment twiddling my thumbs and bored out of my mind for six hours. So I packed a backpack full of "entertainment": a book, my computer (if there was no wireless at least I could play solitaire and listen to music), essays to correct and grade, lessons to plan and a blanket and pillow to take a nap on the floor.
Luckily, I needed none of that because as I was walking into the building, a woman from Homecenter called to say they would be there in 10 minutes. And they were! Everything was in place by 9:30. Then, since I knew the refrigerator wasn't coming until after 11:00 (I got the same kind of committment from this guy, "We'll be there sometime after 11:00 but defintely before 7:00 pm!") I decided to go to Casas&Ideas and buy some sheets and run some other errands.
It was bizarre to be out in Providencia on a Saturday morning. I can honestly say that never before in my life in Chile have I been up that early and out shopping on a weekend. If I'm up that early it's because I have to work. It felt kind of nice though. The air was fresher, or something. And the people were fewer and seemed friendlier. Maybe this is because the people who were out are morning people, and therefore get grumpier as the day goes on...haha.
But I digress. While I was waiting in line at some store, the man with the fridge called and said he would be there around 1:00pm. This was perfect, because it was 11:30 and it gave me time to finish my shopping and get back to my apartment. I was back a bit early, which was perfect, because he arrived a bit early! Early! In Chile! I almost fainted from the shock. I was done waiting before 1:00 pm when I had thought I would be there until 7:00 pm.
After everyone had told me horror stories about deliveries that never arrived until you called and harrassed the "customer service" representatives, or deliveries that arrived the next day and they wouldn't give them to you because you weren't there and the never called first, I was really happy that everything worked out.
Now, I can move! I think the big day will be Thursday if everything goes according to plan.
Luckily, I needed none of that because as I was walking into the building, a woman from Homecenter called to say they would be there in 10 minutes. And they were! Everything was in place by 9:30. Then, since I knew the refrigerator wasn't coming until after 11:00 (I got the same kind of committment from this guy, "We'll be there sometime after 11:00 but defintely before 7:00 pm!") I decided to go to Casas&Ideas and buy some sheets and run some other errands.
It was bizarre to be out in Providencia on a Saturday morning. I can honestly say that never before in my life in Chile have I been up that early and out shopping on a weekend. If I'm up that early it's because I have to work. It felt kind of nice though. The air was fresher, or something. And the people were fewer and seemed friendlier. Maybe this is because the people who were out are morning people, and therefore get grumpier as the day goes on...haha.
But I digress. While I was waiting in line at some store, the man with the fridge called and said he would be there around 1:00pm. This was perfect, because it was 11:30 and it gave me time to finish my shopping and get back to my apartment. I was back a bit early, which was perfect, because he arrived a bit early! Early! In Chile! I almost fainted from the shock. I was done waiting before 1:00 pm when I had thought I would be there until 7:00 pm.
After everyone had told me horror stories about deliveries that never arrived until you called and harrassed the "customer service" representatives, or deliveries that arrived the next day and they wouldn't give them to you because you weren't there and the never called first, I was really happy that everything worked out.
Now, I can move! I think the big day will be Thursday if everything goes according to plan.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Everything happens for a reason, right?
Ever since I was in high school and I've been a firm believer in that things happen for a reason. I'm not saying that God (or another higher power) has a set in stone plan for every single human being. But I also don't believe that things just happen randomly. I believe there is someone or something out there looking out for us, or there is at least some pattern that our lives follow.
Maybe it's because chaos and randomness scare me, or maybe I'm just trying to logically explain why bad things happen to good people. However, I can think of thousands of examples in my life where I've wanted something to happen, and stubbornly tried to make it happen despite it not working out. When I've stepped back and "gone with the flow", things tend to work out for the best, even if it wasn't the outcome that I originally desired.
This is a silly, unimportant, miniscule example, but it illustrates my point perfectly. In my seemingly never-ending quest for furniture, I finally decided to buy a bed from Falabella online. I registered for the site, picked the bed I wanted and went to virtually check out. I got to a certain step and when I hit "next" ("continuar") the same page reloaded. I tried a different internet browser. I tried signing in and out of the website. I even restarted my computer, but nothing worked. The website would not let me buy that bed (don't panic, I hadn't even entered my credit card info yet, so no worries there). I contemplated calling "customer service" but my fear of talking of the phone in Spanish prevented me and I told myself that I would try later on because maybe it was a problem with their server or what not. I did end up trying later, but by this time it was too late to call customer service. I decided I would call the next day.
The next day, however, I went to Homecenter in search of curtain rods (no luck) and found a better bed for less money! So I bought it.
My decision to come to Chile was kind of like this too. During my sophomore year I searched as much as I could for a study abroad program in El Salvador or Central America that my university would accept. However, the deadline was fast approaching and I realized I wouldn't have time to get a new program approved. Instead of freaking out, I decided to come to Chile, which ultimately changed the whole course of my life.
I'm not saying that people should be passengers on their life's journey and just sit there and do nothing, because life will decide what's best for them. No. I absolutely believe that people should be drivers of their destiny, but just look out for road signs. And if there is some sort of tree down that prevents you from getting to your desitnation, sometimes the best thing isn't to be stubborn and impation and go off-roading through difficult terrain. There's a reason that tree is down, and sometimes you just have to wait for someone or something to come along and clear it away.
Maybe it's because chaos and randomness scare me, or maybe I'm just trying to logically explain why bad things happen to good people. However, I can think of thousands of examples in my life where I've wanted something to happen, and stubbornly tried to make it happen despite it not working out. When I've stepped back and "gone with the flow", things tend to work out for the best, even if it wasn't the outcome that I originally desired.
This is a silly, unimportant, miniscule example, but it illustrates my point perfectly. In my seemingly never-ending quest for furniture, I finally decided to buy a bed from Falabella online. I registered for the site, picked the bed I wanted and went to virtually check out. I got to a certain step and when I hit "next" ("continuar") the same page reloaded. I tried a different internet browser. I tried signing in and out of the website. I even restarted my computer, but nothing worked. The website would not let me buy that bed (don't panic, I hadn't even entered my credit card info yet, so no worries there). I contemplated calling "customer service" but my fear of talking of the phone in Spanish prevented me and I told myself that I would try later on because maybe it was a problem with their server or what not. I did end up trying later, but by this time it was too late to call customer service. I decided I would call the next day.
The next day, however, I went to Homecenter in search of curtain rods (no luck) and found a better bed for less money! So I bought it.
My decision to come to Chile was kind of like this too. During my sophomore year I searched as much as I could for a study abroad program in El Salvador or Central America that my university would accept. However, the deadline was fast approaching and I realized I wouldn't have time to get a new program approved. Instead of freaking out, I decided to come to Chile, which ultimately changed the whole course of my life.
I'm not saying that people should be passengers on their life's journey and just sit there and do nothing, because life will decide what's best for them. No. I absolutely believe that people should be drivers of their destiny, but just look out for road signs. And if there is some sort of tree down that prevents you from getting to your desitnation, sometimes the best thing isn't to be stubborn and impation and go off-roading through difficult terrain. There's a reason that tree is down, and sometimes you just have to wait for someone or something to come along and clear it away.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
It's raining cats and dogs
Or, if you're from the south of Chile, you say it's raining iron bars (lloviendo a chuzos).
I can remember exactly one time in my life that I enjoyed the rain. I had just gotten home from Chile and I was at Colby working as a research assistant. It had been really hot and muggy out for what seemed like forever and it started to rain. My friend K. and I had access to the roof of our dorm from our rooms, so we went outside and frolicked in the warm summer rain. I know that sounds totally cliché, but we seriously did. It was great.
As a rule though, I hate rain. I am a person who needs a certain amount of sunlight to be happy. Rainy days literally get me down. I don't mind them so much if I can stay in bed all day and watch TV or read, but on days when I have to traipse through public transportation with grumpy Santiaguinos I really hate it.
However, in the name of trying to be positive (see my last post, I'm happy, I swear!) there could be worse things than having to momentarily be out in the rain today. At least my job involves mostly being inside in a building that has heat. I don't own a kiosk, I'm not a construction worker, I not the guy who takes care of cars, or a delivery person. So really I should count my blessings.
And plus, tomorrow or the next day or whenever it stops raining, the mountains will look great, the air will be (temporarily) cleaner and every day is a day closer to September and spring in Santiago.
I can remember exactly one time in my life that I enjoyed the rain. I had just gotten home from Chile and I was at Colby working as a research assistant. It had been really hot and muggy out for what seemed like forever and it started to rain. My friend K. and I had access to the roof of our dorm from our rooms, so we went outside and frolicked in the warm summer rain. I know that sounds totally cliché, but we seriously did. It was great.
As a rule though, I hate rain. I am a person who needs a certain amount of sunlight to be happy. Rainy days literally get me down. I don't mind them so much if I can stay in bed all day and watch TV or read, but on days when I have to traipse through public transportation with grumpy Santiaguinos I really hate it.
However, in the name of trying to be positive (see my last post, I'm happy, I swear!) there could be worse things than having to momentarily be out in the rain today. At least my job involves mostly being inside in a building that has heat. I don't own a kiosk, I'm not a construction worker, I not the guy who takes care of cars, or a delivery person. So really I should count my blessings.
And plus, tomorrow or the next day or whenever it stops raining, the mountains will look great, the air will be (temporarily) cleaner and every day is a day closer to September and spring in Santiago.
Monday, August 17, 2009
A good weekend in Chile (and more chilenismos)
Living in a foreign country is like riding a slow roller coaster. It's filled with ups and downs, good days and bad days, times you love every second of your life and moments when you want to stay in bed all day watching television from the U.S. and checking people's status updates on facebook.
Luckily, I seem to be on an upswing after a low period.
After a really crappy day on Friday, I got home (soaked, it was raining) and my host family's new gringa asked me to go out. I was tired and really wanted to go to bed, but I decided to go for it. We went to D'Akatar (Tobalaba with Principe de Gales) which wasn't all that great, but the company was good and I had a great time being spun around by one of the best dancers I've ever met. The rooster was dry. (Haha, I can't stop with the Chilenismos...el gallo era seco, which means he was really good at dancing).
Then on Saturday I went to the mall and bought my shower curtain and had a delicious mid-afternoon meal with Sara at TGI Fridays. Side note: the outfits they make those poor waiters wear are ridiculous. It's hard to take someone seriously when they have a Daffy Duck stuffed animal hanging down their back.
Saturday night my friend R. called and we went to Maestra Vida in Bellavista and danced some more salsa with her boyfriend and a friend of his. I passed it pig (Ahh! I can't stop. It's a disease. Lo pasé chancho...I had a great time).
Of course Sunday I woke up to find my face plastered on page 4 of LUN and thouroughly enjoyed my 15 minutes of fame, which seeped into today when all of my students were thrilled to have a "famous" teacher and one of the doormen at a company where I teach recognized me from the paper.
Finally, I was in the elevator today and a woman says to me, "What a pretty red coat you have!" Anyone who has lived in Santiago will realize how odd it is for someone to say something to you in an elevator (besides maybe chao or buenas noches), much less a compliment! I was thrilled and smiled and said, "Muchas gracias!!!" probably more enthusiastically than she expected.
I hope to keep on top of this Russian Mountain (montaña rusa...rollercoaster) for awhile. The perspective from here is just amazing.
Luckily, I seem to be on an upswing after a low period.
After a really crappy day on Friday, I got home (soaked, it was raining) and my host family's new gringa asked me to go out. I was tired and really wanted to go to bed, but I decided to go for it. We went to D'Akatar (Tobalaba with Principe de Gales) which wasn't all that great, but the company was good and I had a great time being spun around by one of the best dancers I've ever met. The rooster was dry. (Haha, I can't stop with the Chilenismos...el gallo era seco, which means he was really good at dancing).
Then on Saturday I went to the mall and bought my shower curtain and had a delicious mid-afternoon meal with Sara at TGI Fridays. Side note: the outfits they make those poor waiters wear are ridiculous. It's hard to take someone seriously when they have a Daffy Duck stuffed animal hanging down their back.
Saturday night my friend R. called and we went to Maestra Vida in Bellavista and danced some more salsa with her boyfriend and a friend of his. I passed it pig (Ahh! I can't stop. It's a disease. Lo pasé chancho...I had a great time).
Of course Sunday I woke up to find my face plastered on page 4 of LUN and thouroughly enjoyed my 15 minutes of fame, which seeped into today when all of my students were thrilled to have a "famous" teacher and one of the doormen at a company where I teach recognized me from the paper.
Finally, I was in the elevator today and a woman says to me, "What a pretty red coat you have!" Anyone who has lived in Santiago will realize how odd it is for someone to say something to you in an elevator (besides maybe chao or buenas noches), much less a compliment! I was thrilled and smiled and said, "Muchas gracias!!!" probably more enthusiastically than she expected.
I hope to keep on top of this Russian Mountain (montaña rusa...rollercoaster) for awhile. The perspective from here is just amazing.
Shower curtain....check!
Tonight I went to my new apartment and hung up the shower curtain.
You're probably rolling your eyes and saying, woop-di-doo, Abby! But seriously, if you understood what I had to go through on Friday to be able to do all the necessary things to buy a shower curtain, you'd understand.
It all comes down to a few little pieces of metal: a key and a deadbolt lock.
Friday morning I went and picked up the keys from the real estate agent, then went to measure the apartment so I could go to the Falabella outlet and see what they had in terms of beds and refrigerators. But we got to the apartment, and the keys the woman gave me didn't work in the dead bolt lock. As they would say here in Chile, cuak.
So I called the real estate agent, and as if I were an idiot, she told me, "Look, Abby, just put the key in and turn it. Then it opens."
Umm. I'm not an idiot. Believe it or not, this is how we unlock locks in the United States too. It's not a cultural difference or something. She was not helpful at all, and F. told me I was being too much of a push-over (well actually he said I was too "soft", but he was being nice) and that I should call back and insist. So I did, but the woman had entered a meeting and so I was assured that I would be called back. I didn't believe that at all, but we decided to go and get a coffee while we at least gave her a chance to call back. No go. So F. called back after waiting 45 minutes, because I'm too nice and wouldn't have insisted enough.
So after telling him the same thing she told me, "Just put the key in and turn it! We've opened the door millions of times like that," and him insisting that it was the wrong key, she hung up on him! So that made us both mad and so we decided to go to her office.
I have never been so angry in my life as I was talking to her. She took my keys, looked at them, then shoved them into my face and told me that we could meet someone at the apartment at 4:30 and they would open the door with the same set of keys. So I asked her what would happen if it didn't open. She did not want to promise that she was going to do anything more about it no matter how I insisted. I started trembling and literally could not talk. So luckly F. got her to promise that a solution would be found before my rent contract technically started.
At the end, it turns out that the owner had changed the dead bolt lock. But we didn't find that out until around 5:00pm, when the real estate agent finally decided to call her. Why didn't she just call her when I called and said it didn't work? I'm clueless.
So after my class on Friday night I went and picked up the right keys that had been left with the doorman. Por fin I could get into my apartment. I made some measurements and admired the breathtaking view. And yesterday I took advantage of the sales at Casa y Ideas and bought a shower curtain. It felt so satisfying to hang it up today.
Unfortunately, this may not be the end of having to insist that people give me what I deserve. But at least I am better prepared not to be a push-over.
You're probably rolling your eyes and saying, woop-di-doo, Abby! But seriously, if you understood what I had to go through on Friday to be able to do all the necessary things to buy a shower curtain, you'd understand.
It all comes down to a few little pieces of metal: a key and a deadbolt lock.
Friday morning I went and picked up the keys from the real estate agent, then went to measure the apartment so I could go to the Falabella outlet and see what they had in terms of beds and refrigerators. But we got to the apartment, and the keys the woman gave me didn't work in the dead bolt lock. As they would say here in Chile, cuak.
So I called the real estate agent, and as if I were an idiot, she told me, "Look, Abby, just put the key in and turn it. Then it opens."
Umm. I'm not an idiot. Believe it or not, this is how we unlock locks in the United States too. It's not a cultural difference or something. She was not helpful at all, and F. told me I was being too much of a push-over (well actually he said I was too "soft", but he was being nice) and that I should call back and insist. So I did, but the woman had entered a meeting and so I was assured that I would be called back. I didn't believe that at all, but we decided to go and get a coffee while we at least gave her a chance to call back. No go. So F. called back after waiting 45 minutes, because I'm too nice and wouldn't have insisted enough.
So after telling him the same thing she told me, "Just put the key in and turn it! We've opened the door millions of times like that," and him insisting that it was the wrong key, she hung up on him! So that made us both mad and so we decided to go to her office.
I have never been so angry in my life as I was talking to her. She took my keys, looked at them, then shoved them into my face and told me that we could meet someone at the apartment at 4:30 and they would open the door with the same set of keys. So I asked her what would happen if it didn't open. She did not want to promise that she was going to do anything more about it no matter how I insisted. I started trembling and literally could not talk. So luckly F. got her to promise that a solution would be found before my rent contract technically started.
At the end, it turns out that the owner had changed the dead bolt lock. But we didn't find that out until around 5:00pm, when the real estate agent finally decided to call her. Why didn't she just call her when I called and said it didn't work? I'm clueless.
So after my class on Friday night I went and picked up the right keys that had been left with the doorman. Por fin I could get into my apartment. I made some measurements and admired the breathtaking view. And yesterday I took advantage of the sales at Casa y Ideas and bought a shower curtain. It felt so satisfying to hang it up today.
Unfortunately, this may not be the end of having to insist that people give me what I deserve. But at least I am better prepared not to be a push-over.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Fame
Check it out!
Margaret and I are featured in Las Ultimas Noticias because of our posts on the translations of Chilenismos.
I honestly didn't realize they were going to feature my photo so prominently. Credit goes to F. for taking that when we went to Viña with my mom and sister.
Well, I'm off to bask in my 15 minutes of fame while they last. Check back tomorrow for a crazy apartment related story.
Margaret and I are featured in Las Ultimas Noticias because of our posts on the translations of Chilenismos.
I honestly didn't realize they were going to feature my photo so prominently. Credit goes to F. for taking that when we went to Viña with my mom and sister.
Well, I'm off to bask in my 15 minutes of fame while they last. Check back tomorrow for a crazy apartment related story.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Proof
...that I am indeed an English teacher.This was a TOEFL class that I finished teaching at the end of July. TOEFL stands for Test of English as a Foreign Language and is a really intense standardized test that all non-native speakers of English must take to gain admission to universities in the U.S. and many other English speaking countries (in general for the U.K., students have to take the IELTS).
This class was a blast because they are all scholarship winners, therefore smarter than the average English student, and really really dedicated to learning. The TOEFL is HARD, so the class was sometimes stressful, but we always managed to have a great time anyway. I'll really miss them all when they go abroad, but I know they'll do a great job representing Chile in the U.S., Australia, Denmark, Canada and England.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The house I live in...I bought it!
I appologize! This post was supposed to be up yesterday, but blogger went on the fritz and refused to post it, as well as save it! So here it is, finally.
Well, kind of. It's not a house, it's an apartment, and I didn't buy it, I'm renting. That being said, I do still feel like an Independent Woman.
My next quest is furniture, or at least a bed and a refrigerator. I'm hoping to move the weekend of the 22nd if everything goes according to plan. And then, a house warming party (or inauguración as they say here in Chile, which makes me think I'm a president, except the inaguration of a president isn't translated as inauguración, but some other word I can't think of right now).
If you have questions about my renting process, feel free to let me know. I have to warn you that it was ridiculously easy, and maybe I was just lucky in that aspect.
P.S. Credit goes to my friend K. for the Desinty's Child (I just wrote Destiny's Chile! Ha...one track mind) reference.
Well, kind of. It's not a house, it's an apartment, and I didn't buy it, I'm renting. That being said, I do still feel like an Independent Woman.
My next quest is furniture, or at least a bed and a refrigerator. I'm hoping to move the weekend of the 22nd if everything goes according to plan. And then, a house warming party (or inauguración as they say here in Chile, which makes me think I'm a president, except the inaguration of a president isn't translated as inauguración, but some other word I can't think of right now).
If you have questions about my renting process, feel free to let me know. I have to warn you that it was ridiculously easy, and maybe I was just lucky in that aspect.
P.S. Credit goes to my friend K. for the Desinty's Child (I just wrote Destiny's Chile! Ha...one track mind) reference.
Monday, August 10, 2009
It's not as good as the Rooster at the Glue, but I tried...
No, I haven't gone crazy. This is how you could literally translate how people speak here in Chile. Check out Cachando Chile's post (which is way better than mine) as well. The real English and Chilean Spanish versions follow. Also be sure to check out Eileen's post about when dead men come knocking.
The other day I had desires to go to the Arauco Park, but because I’m so flied, I forgot to tell the chauffeur and was already at The High Counts when I could get out of the collective. As I was walking to the shopping, I found a junior from glue with his little goats.
“So many moons!” I told him as I greeted him and his youngsters.“Yes! Cove time has passed,” he agreed, then added “Hey, did you know our chief is going to complete forty springs on Thursday?”
The other day I had desires to go to the Arauco Park, but because I’m so flied, I forgot to tell the chauffeur and was already at The High Counts when I could get out of the collective. As I was walking to the shopping, I found a junior from glue with his little goats.
“So many moons!” I told him as I greeted him and his youngsters.“Yes! Cove time has passed,” he agreed, then added “Hey, did you know our chief is going to complete forty springs on Thursday?”
“Whaaaaat? Don’t screw with me. I would have sworn she didn’t have more than 30. She has the face of a baby!”
“Don’t tell me! I catch that our partners are going to make the cow to buy her something…if it seems to you, give me 500 little pesos or a Lucas.”
“For your place!” I responded and gifted him a bill.
We then goodbyed ourselves and I went to give a turn around the local.
It gave me tin to buy anything because I have baby hands, but in the capital of France I bought a waistcoat and a for-water because water began to fall and it made more cold than the comb outside. As I was leaving I realized that I had hunger and looked at my watch. It was time for elevens, so I decided I wanted to drink a little coffee, but the only place I could find was a coffee shop with legs. I decided to call my old woman to see if I could eat where her, because she lives around the turn from the shopping.
When I arrived, she asked if I preferred a cut coffee or a little tea or even herb water, but I told her it gave me the same. I was really ground from my outing at the shopping, so after eating I poured myself on the sofa and grew weak for a tiny while.
Now, here's the Chilean Spanish:
El otro día tenía ganas de ir a Parque Aracuo, pero soy tan volada, se me olvidó decir al chofer y ya estaba en Alto Las Condes cuando me pude bajar del colectivo. Mientras caminaba al shopping, me encontré con el junior de la pega con sus tres cabros chicos.
“¡Tantas lunas!” le dije mientras saludaba a sus chiquillos.
“¡Sí! Ha pasado caleta tiempo,” asintió y agregó, “Oye, ¿cachai que la jefa se va cumplir 40 primaveras el jueves?”
“Queeeee? No me hueví. Te lo habría jurado que no tuviera más que treinta. Tiene cara de guagua!”
“No me digai! Cacho que nuestros compañeros van a hacer la vaca para comprarle algo…si te parece dame 500 pesitos o una luka.”
“Por supuesto!” Le respondí y le regalé un billete.
Luego nos despedimos y fui a dar una vuelta por el local.
Me dio lata comprar algo porque tengo mano de guagua, pero en Paris compré un chaleco y una paraguas porque había empezado a gotear y hacía más frío que la cresta afuera. Cuando iba saliendo, me di cuenta que tenía hambre y miré mi reloj. Ya era la hora para once, entonces decidí que quería tomarme un cafecito. Sin embargo, el único lugar que pude encontrar era un café con piernas. Entonces decidí llamar a mi vieja para ver si pudiera comer ahí.
Cuando llegué me preguntó si quería un café cortado o un tesito y incluso me ofreció agua de hierbas, pero le dije que me dio lo mismo. Estaba muy molida por el paseo al shopping, entonces me eché al sofá y flojeé un ratito.
Now, here's the real English:
The other day I felt like going to Parque Arauco (a mall here in Chile), but because I’m so absent minded, I forgot to tell the collective taxi driver and I was already at Alto Las Condes (another mall) when I could get out. As I was walking to the mall, I saw a guy from work with his small children.
“It’s been a long time!” I told him as I greeted him and his little ones.
“Yes, it sure has,” he agreed, then added, “Hey, did you know that our boss is going to turn forty on Thursday?”
“What? Don’t mess with me. I swore she was only 30. She looks so young!”
“You’re telling me! I think that our co-workers are collecting money to get her a present…if you want you can give me 500 or 1000 pesos.”
“Of course!” I responded and handed him the money.
Then we said goodbye and I went to walk around the mall.
It was such a drag buying things because I’m really frugal, but in Paris (a large department store) I bought a sweater and an umbrella because it had started to drizzle and it was really freaking cold out. As I was leaving I realized I was hungry and looked at my watch. It was tea time, so I decided I wanted a coffee. However, the only place I could find was a café where scantily clad women serve coffee. So I decided to call my mother to see if I could eat there.
When I arrived she asked me if I wanted coffee with milk or tea or herbal tea, but I told her it didn’t matter. I was really exhausted from shopping so I sprawled out on the couch and lazed around for a little while.
Whew. Now I'm tired. Really happy news coming tomorrow, so stay tuned!
Dog intelligence
Ruby, right after I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. You can tell by her eyes...This intelligence measures the ability for dogs to obey, so one could argue there are other intelligences (like the ability to track) and come up with a completely different ranking, but according to the author of the book "The Intelligence of Dogs," obidience intelligence is the only "breed dependent" intelligence.
But I think the author of this ranking forgot a very important "breed" of dog: the Santiago street dog. These dogs know to cross the street when the light is green, they know which dogs belong in their terrirtory and which ones don't, and most importantly, they know how to survive in the cement jungle of Santiago, something that even the smartest border collie probably wouldn't be able to do. Cachando Chile wrote a great piece on dogs in Chile, so check it out for more info.
I leave you with a picture of my somewhat dumb but strangely loveable dog who loves to go on kayak rides. You can see my smarter dog at the beginning of the post, who despite her intelligence, goes momentarly insane when someone utters the word "walk" or she sees a large mud puddle.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
It seems that I'm on a language kick lately...
So last night I got home and noticed there was some commotion going on in the main house, so I went to see what was up. For Día del Niño (Children's Day, a holiday that doesn't exist in the U.S., because as my mother always put it, every day is Children's Day) my host brother gave his nephews a hamster, appropriately named Japter (which sounds like how you pronounce hampster in Chilean Spanish). Ig., who is five, was very excited about Japter and told me all about him, and how he loooooooves to run on his wheel, how he sleeps during the day and is awake at night, how he drinks water, eats hampster food, etc. Then he showed me this huge plastic ball that you can put the hamster in and he'll roll around the floor in it. Hamster heaven, at least for this little guy.
But anyway, while Ig. was talking about said ball, he said this: "Andó todo el día en la pelota!" (He was going around in the ball all day!) and my host brother and his girlfriend right on key said, "Anduvo!" before I could even realize that Ig. had made a grammatical mistake.
That got me thinking about how children learn their first language. Obviously they have to make mistakes and get corrected. But no one ever told them, "Andar is an irregular verb and is conjugated in the preterite tense like the verb Estar which we learned about last class, remember? Now repeat after me: anduve, anduviste, anduvo, anduvieron, anduvimos. " Then this got me to thinking about how crappy my language instruction was in high school. Seriously, who learns anything from filling out silly conjugation charts? In high school I was "good" at Spanish and could probably "speak" better than anyone else in the class, but could I really speak? I don't think so.
Now people tell me I speak Spanish well. Is this because I speak 100% correctly all the time? No, not even close. But I'm fluent, which means I speak quickly and use the correct intonation. My grammar might be awkward (I say things like "me gusta mejor" instead of "prefiero" and am constantly confusing the preterite and imperfect) but people understand me and perceive me as speaking the language well, which in my opinion is the important part. What's my secret?
Let me tell you, it was not memorizing conjugation charts. I am a good observer and an excellent listener. I spent a lot of time listening when I first arrived in Chile, mostly because I couldn't speak quickly enough to adequately express my ideas during a conversation. This was frustrating at first, but then I realized that listening and mimicing was so valuable. People tell me I speak like a Chilean. Why? Because I spent months listening to them, and learned the vernacular and inonation that they use.
Although I'm no expert in early childhood language acquisition, I imagine this is how children learn too.
But anyway, while Ig. was talking about said ball, he said this: "Andó todo el día en la pelota!" (He was going around in the ball all day!) and my host brother and his girlfriend right on key said, "Anduvo!" before I could even realize that Ig. had made a grammatical mistake.
That got me thinking about how children learn their first language. Obviously they have to make mistakes and get corrected. But no one ever told them, "Andar is an irregular verb and is conjugated in the preterite tense like the verb Estar which we learned about last class, remember? Now repeat after me: anduve, anduviste, anduvo, anduvieron, anduvimos. " Then this got me to thinking about how crappy my language instruction was in high school. Seriously, who learns anything from filling out silly conjugation charts? In high school I was "good" at Spanish and could probably "speak" better than anyone else in the class, but could I really speak? I don't think so.
Now people tell me I speak Spanish well. Is this because I speak 100% correctly all the time? No, not even close. But I'm fluent, which means I speak quickly and use the correct intonation. My grammar might be awkward (I say things like "me gusta mejor" instead of "prefiero" and am constantly confusing the preterite and imperfect) but people understand me and perceive me as speaking the language well, which in my opinion is the important part. What's my secret?
Let me tell you, it was not memorizing conjugation charts. I am a good observer and an excellent listener. I spent a lot of time listening when I first arrived in Chile, mostly because I couldn't speak quickly enough to adequately express my ideas during a conversation. This was frustrating at first, but then I realized that listening and mimicing was so valuable. People tell me I speak like a Chilean. Why? Because I spent months listening to them, and learned the vernacular and inonation that they use.
Although I'm no expert in early childhood language acquisition, I imagine this is how children learn too.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
A plug for good customer service
I am in love with the Starbucks on the corner of Isidora Goyenechea and Magdalena. It's kind of small inside, so a table is not always guaranteed, but they have THE best customer service. I go there quite often (I have class every day in a building across the street) and I have never once had a bad experience. The service is efficient and the people who work there are so friendly. They always strike up conversations with me and ask me how to say things in English. They're cute. It makes me want to work there.
But don't worry, I'm not quitting my day job to become a barista. For now I'll just keep going back there and leaving tips.
Oh, and for the record, I'm not saying that other Starbucks have bad customer service. In fact, I haven't extensively patronized any other Starbucks locations, but this one sticks out in my mind as taking great care of its customers.
But don't worry, I'm not quitting my day job to become a barista. For now I'll just keep going back there and leaving tips.
Oh, and for the record, I'm not saying that other Starbucks have bad customer service. In fact, I haven't extensively patronized any other Starbucks locations, but this one sticks out in my mind as taking great care of its customers.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Word frustration
Sometimes, I feel like I don't have a language.
Let me clarify, because I know you're thinking, but Abby, you speak English and Spanish, you have TWO languages!
Well first of all, my Spanish isn't perfect, although a student made me realize the other day that I do know a ridiculous amount of obscure vocabulary. But even though I may be fluent, it's my second language, not my first, and will always be like that.
And my English. Gah! Do you know how frustrating it is to not know a word in your own language? The other day I was trying to type the word "relaxtion," which I was sure was a word, and the little red squiggly would not go away. I was so frustrated, so I yelled into Sara, "Hey, how do you spell relaxtion?" and she goes, "Relaxtion?? You mean relaxAtion?" Umm, yes, I'll just go hide under a rock now.
Then in class last night I was talking about landladies for some reason, and of course a student asked me what a landlady was called if indeed she were not a lady but a man, and I could NOT think of the word. I knew it wasn't landman, but I had no clue what the word was. I had to ask my friend R. and when she said "landlord" I almost died. DUH!
I realize that to make room for Spanish probably some of my English knowledge leaks out through my ears. But it's really frustrating when you're an English teacher who is supposed to know these things. Plus, I get so used to hearing my students speak Spanishized English that I begin to think it's okay to say these things. My big question right now is, do we say "I have a doubt" in English like they say "Tengo una duda" in Spanish?
Before you know it, I'm going to think that it's okay to say "I have 23 years old." GAH!
Let me clarify, because I know you're thinking, but Abby, you speak English and Spanish, you have TWO languages!
Well first of all, my Spanish isn't perfect, although a student made me realize the other day that I do know a ridiculous amount of obscure vocabulary. But even though I may be fluent, it's my second language, not my first, and will always be like that.
And my English. Gah! Do you know how frustrating it is to not know a word in your own language? The other day I was trying to type the word "relaxtion," which I was sure was a word, and the little red squiggly would not go away. I was so frustrated, so I yelled into Sara, "Hey, how do you spell relaxtion?" and she goes, "Relaxtion?? You mean relaxAtion?" Umm, yes, I'll just go hide under a rock now.
Then in class last night I was talking about landladies for some reason, and of course a student asked me what a landlady was called if indeed she were not a lady but a man, and I could NOT think of the word. I knew it wasn't landman, but I had no clue what the word was. I had to ask my friend R. and when she said "landlord" I almost died. DUH!
I realize that to make room for Spanish probably some of my English knowledge leaks out through my ears. But it's really frustrating when you're an English teacher who is supposed to know these things. Plus, I get so used to hearing my students speak Spanishized English that I begin to think it's okay to say these things. My big question right now is, do we say "I have a doubt" in English like they say "Tengo una duda" in Spanish?
Before you know it, I'm going to think that it's okay to say "I have 23 years old." GAH!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The BIP! Card Miracle
Here in Santiago we use a little blue card called la tarjeta BIP! to access both the micros (buses) and the metro. If you want to just ride the metro, you can buy a ticket, but the only way to get on the bus (honestly and legally) is to have a BIP! card. For all of you reading from English-speaking parts, it's pronounced "beep" for the sound it makes when you swipe it against the card reader.
My BIP! card is kind of my lifeline. I live pretty far from a metro, so I rely on micros a lot. The most common place to put more money on your BIP! card is also the metro, which requires a bit of planning on my part to make sure I have enough money on my card not only to get home, but also to get on the micro the next morning. There is a little store about two blocks from my house where you can recharge your BIP! in an emergency, but I try to always have enough money on my card.
On Thursday night I went out with a group of students because it was our last class and me cayeron bien (I like them). So we had a jolly old time in Plaza Ñuñoa and then I took a taxi back with on of my students who lives near me. The next morning I checked my e-mail and I had a message from student saying that I had left my BIP! card in the taxi. Shucks, I thought, but then I remembered that my mom and sister had left me the BIP! card they bought when they were here.
However, I knew it didn't have any money on it. Or maybe it had 200 pesos, but not enough for a ride on the micro. I rummaged around in my desk drawer and found the BIP! I was planning on going to the little store and recharging before getting on the micro, but one thing lead to another and I was running late for class. So I decided just to beg the chofer to let me on the bus. I planned to bring out my whole gringa "no entender" routine if necessary.
So I got on the bus, went to swipe my card and see the flashing red light and the angry "beep beep beep!" but instead I got a green light, a healthy "beeeeep!" and the machine read "Saldo: $2600" which means that somehow my extra BIP! card recharged itself while sitting in my desk drawer.
Maybe there's a logical explanation (my student's boyfriend suggested that if you put BIP cards next to electronics they recharge themselves...there are various electronics in my desk drawer), or maybe I'm really forgetful (I doubt it...I have a great memory) and actually recharged that BIP card one day.
However, I prefer to believe that this was a BIP! card miracle.
The End.
My BIP! card is kind of my lifeline. I live pretty far from a metro, so I rely on micros a lot. The most common place to put more money on your BIP! card is also the metro, which requires a bit of planning on my part to make sure I have enough money on my card not only to get home, but also to get on the micro the next morning. There is a little store about two blocks from my house where you can recharge your BIP! in an emergency, but I try to always have enough money on my card.
On Thursday night I went out with a group of students because it was our last class and me cayeron bien (I like them). So we had a jolly old time in Plaza Ñuñoa and then I took a taxi back with on of my students who lives near me. The next morning I checked my e-mail and I had a message from student saying that I had left my BIP! card in the taxi. Shucks, I thought, but then I remembered that my mom and sister had left me the BIP! card they bought when they were here.
However, I knew it didn't have any money on it. Or maybe it had 200 pesos, but not enough for a ride on the micro. I rummaged around in my desk drawer and found the BIP! I was planning on going to the little store and recharging before getting on the micro, but one thing lead to another and I was running late for class. So I decided just to beg the chofer to let me on the bus. I planned to bring out my whole gringa "no entender" routine if necessary.
So I got on the bus, went to swipe my card and see the flashing red light and the angry "beep beep beep!" but instead I got a green light, a healthy "beeeeep!" and the machine read "Saldo: $2600" which means that somehow my extra BIP! card recharged itself while sitting in my desk drawer.
Maybe there's a logical explanation (my student's boyfriend suggested that if you put BIP cards next to electronics they recharge themselves...there are various electronics in my desk drawer), or maybe I'm really forgetful (I doubt it...I have a great memory) and actually recharged that BIP card one day.
However, I prefer to believe that this was a BIP! card miracle.
The End.
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