Hopelessly Informal

I consider myself fluent in Spanish. No, I don't speak perfectly and never will, but I can handle myself in most situations. Also, I have a huge vocabulary which helps mask the fact that I confuse masculine and feminine, the preterit and imperfect, ser vs. estar. If, as I always tell my advanced students, I always thought before I talked, I would probably not make as many mistakes. But, hey, life moves fast and so do I. And sometimes in the name of getting a point across I might say something like, "El partido era buena anoche," which translated into English gets my point across perfectly (The game was good last night) but should be said like this: "El partido estuvo bueno anoche." The adjective bueno should match the masculine noun partido, and the verb should be in the preterit because it happened at a specific time. I'm not sure why it should be estar and not ser. But anyway, that's enough Spanish lesson for today. Or not...

One part of the Spanish language that I continuously struggle with is the different "you's". You see, in English, we have one "you" and we use it for everyone. We would say "How are you?" to the President and our best friend. In Spanish, there are two: formal and informal. And in Chile, there's a third. Take this phrase in English: "Would you like to sit down?"

If I am on the metro and occupying one of the precious seats and I want to ask an old lady, or really anyone older than me who merits respect, I say, "Se quiere sentar?"

If there is someone my age who I would like to offer my seat to, I will probably say, "Te quieres sentar?"

If I were Chilean and offering the seat to a friend or someone my age, I would say, "Te querí sentar?"

The first example is the formal usted form. It is used to show respect to older people and always used in customer service positions. For examples, the doormen in my building always use "usted" with me, as does the man I get photocopies from, the woman at the Registro Civil, the clerk at the grocery store, etc. It's considered very polite and respectful.

The second example actually isn't used that much in Chile, but I would say there are situations that merit its use. It is the informal tú. It would be used in situations where you felt close enough to the person not to use usted, but not close enough to use vos. It's hard for me to think of an example, but maybe you would use this form with some co-workers. If any Chileans who read this have any ideas, please let me know! Again, this pertains to Chile. If you live in Perú, Bolivia, Spain, Mexico, etc, tú is used in most informal situations.

The third example is technically the vos form, but a lot of the time Chileans use tú, and then conjugate the verb in the Chilean vos way (different from the Argentine and Central American vos). If the verb ends in -ar, the ending is -ai. For example:
A: Cómo estai? (How are you?)
B: Bien y tú? (Good, and you?)
If the verb ends in -er or -ir, the ending is -í.
For example:
A: Tení un lapiz? (Do you have a pen?)
B: Sí, toma. (Yes, here.)
This form is very informal, and used with people you know well, like friends, family, schoolmates, co-workers, etc. You usually feel pretty comfortable with the person and are sure they're on the same social level as you when you use this form. Also, you should be Chilean, in my book.

So, are you confused yet? Because I sure am. I struggle with the formal vs. informal. I realize the differences, but in the moment it's hard for the synapses in my brain to connect so quickly. I hardly ever use the Chilean form, because the conjugations are confusing, and also gringos sound RIDICULOUS when they try to talk like Chileans. Yes, I use Chilean words and phrases. But conjugating the verbs like Chileans is a bit over the top, in my opinion, and in the opinion of most Chileans I know.

But I digress. Back to the formal vs. informal discussion. Unless I want to stand there like an idiot for a minute thinking, "okay, I should use usted in this situation, usted is conjugated like so..." my default form, unfortunately, is tú, which is a problem when I need to deal with more formal situations. The usted conjugations just don't slide off my tounge as well. I have taught myself "Se quiere sentar" (the first example) for use on the metro when I offer the old ladies my seat, but apart from that, my mouth usually works before my brain and I find myself telling the lady who works at the supermarket, "No te preocupes." (Don't worry) when she bumped into me last night. I should have said, "No se preocupe," because she was older than me and and an employee.

Knowing me, if I ever met the president of Chile I would probably mess up and use tú. It's not like I would say, "Hola Gordis, como estai weona?" but a meager old "¿Cómo estás?" would probably slip out instead of the proper "Buenas tardes. ¿Cómo está usted?" Hmm. Maybe I should practice if ever the need arises. I'm not sure if President Bachelet would accept my crazy gringa card.

In my humble opinion

We interrupt our regular blog posts for some good old-fashion complaining.

In my humble opinion:

• If you own/work at an internet café, you should have some basic practical knowledge of computers and printers. Knowing how to send a document to the printer would be nice.
• If you are a man and would like to wear a white dress shirt, you should also wear an undershirt. No one wants to see your hairy chest through your translucent shirt.
• A sports bra with "Abercrombie" scrawled across it over a camiseta is not appropriate work attire, unless you work at a gym.
• Standing at the top of the metro stairs to have a conversation and thus blocking the flow of early morning foot traffic should be punished by a fine no less than $30.000 pesos.
• If you don't let me get off the metro before you start getting on, I reserve the right to plow you over.
• 15 year old boys should give their metro seat to the old man with a cane, not pretend to sleep.
  

I think this city is getting to me a bit. Good thing I'm going home for vacation in less than 2 months!!

A series of unfortunate events

Just when life seemed too good to be true, it turned out to be just that.

1. The Yankees won against the Angels, bringing their evil empire to the World Series yet again. Barf.
2. The guy I'm dating just found out he has to transfer to Valdivia for six months.
3. Private classes have been canceling left and right.
4. I have a cold.
5. I think I twisted my knee running.

I try really hard to see the bright side of things, so I'll say that at least it was sunny out today.

But it kind of seemed like the sun was was mocking me.

Blast from the Past

Today I taught at a special intensive weekend course at the Institute for participants in the CORFO English Scholarship program. I don't normally teach in this program so I don't really know many of the students. A student walked into my classroom this morning and I immediately thought, "I know him," which is strange because there are maybe 100 people I recognize in this country, and most because they've been my students. So I immediately thought, "Okay, he was a student of mine before," but it just didn't fit. Then I looked down at his feet: black converse.

My mind immediately rushed back to January 2007. Some study abroad buddies and I were sitting in an auditorium, watching my host brother's band Montgomery perform. We were all giggling and oggling the cute Chilean musicians. Somehow, put a guitar and a guy together, and they automatically become more attractive. It's magic.

One of the guitarists of Montgomery had just walked into my classroom.

After awhile I asked him if he was in Montgomery. He looked pretty surprised, but I quickly explained how I had lived with P. (the other guitarist). He didn't seem to remember me but that's understandable. My host family has hosted around 16 gringo exchange students over the years, so that's a lot to keep track of. However, during the break he came up to me and said that he remembered me. I was skeptical until he mentioned that I used to date F., which confirmed that he actually knew who I was.

This makes me happy, because I feel that Chile is somehow becoming my place. Vermont is so small that I would be worried if I went to the grocery store and didn't run into someone I knew. In Santiago I'm mostly an anonymous member of a mass crowd. It's a major event if I run into someone I know on the street.

However, now that I've run into someone I used to know in Chile (that sounds so weird!) it makes me feel more at home.

P.S. Check out Montgomery! I really like their music, and I'm not saying that just because I know them. Plus, Tonka Tomisic was once in one of their videos, and if that's not badass, I don't know what is. I will leave you with my favorite song:

My love/hate relationship with Castaño (mostly love though, despite everything)

There is a chain bakery here in Santiago called Castaño which curiously enough doesn't sell castañas (I stand corrected: chestnuts) but does indeed sell pastries, bread, empanadas, etc. I should have a frequent buyer card (if such a thing existed) at Castaño because, well, I go there a lot. I love their muffins and their pan de molde (what we just call bread in the US) is the closest I've found to good whole-wheat bread here in Santiago.There are Castaños EVERYWHERE in Santiago, or at least in Providencia. It's like Starbucks in New York. Within a block of my apartment there are three or four. I love the smell of the bread baking and one of my favorite snacks is an empanada napolitana. They also make good little vegetarian sandwhiches with wholewheat bread, cheese, avocado and tomato. Yummy.

Although I go there a lot, the customer service is kind of hit or miss. Case in point. Today I went on my way back from class and bought muffins and a loaf of bread. The total came to $2.500 (around $5.00). I had a $10.000 peso bill, so I handed it to the lady. She said, "Don't you have anything smaller?" And I said no. Then she said, "Are you sure?" And so I opened my wallet to show her. Then (get this) she says, "Don't you have any coins?" So I shook out all my coins to reveal $385 pesos. Not helpful. So she sighed and gave me change.

Then, I looked in her change drawer. It was OVERFLOWING with money! Okay, so maybe she was low on $5.000 peso bills, but she had a ton of $2.000 peso bills and $1.000 peso bills, which added together, make a $5.000 peso bill! Chile does seem to have a lack of small change, especially at smaller businesses like the street carts. But Castaño is a large company that has a stocked change drawer, and probably a safe out back where they can go get more.

To top it all off, she asked the guy behind me, who was paying with a $5.000 bill (which she needed, by the way) if he had anything smaller (his total was less than $1.000). Does this make sense?

After bagging up my muffins in a little paper bag, I grabbed my loaf of bread and left the store. Previously, the lady had put a plastic bag on the counter for me to put my muffins and bread in. However, I live less than a block from this particular Castaño and the plastic bag was totally unnecessary.

THE LADY FOLLOWED ME OUT OF THE STORE YELLING, "YOUNG LADY! YOU FORGOT YOUR BAG!"

Um, what??

She had a line of about 5 people waiting to check out and she's worried about me and my plastic bag?

So not only is the customer service bad at Castaño, it's also, well, strange.

That's not to say I'll stop going there. The muffins are too delicious.

I really can keep a secret, I swear.

Recently I blogged about how realistic my dreams are. This doesn't happen every night. Sometimes I have normal dreams where I totally realize it's a dream and kind of laugh at myself for having such a silly subconscious. But last night I had another very vivid dream.

I dreamed that I was blogging. It was all very real. I could see the template I'm seeing right now, and I felt the keyboard under my fingers as I typed away. I started writing about a secret a friend had recently told me (a real-life secret at that, so I can't share it here!). I typed out the friend's secret then I wrote in big capital letters:

INTERNET! IT'S A SERCET! DON'T TELL!!

Then, in my dream I went to bed. A little while later in my dream I woke up and realized what an idiot I was. Not because I had spilled my friend's secret all over the internet, but because I had spelled "secret" wrong. So in my dream, I got up, went to my computer and changed the spelling.

Then, I really woke up. It was around 5:00am. I was convinced that I had blogged about my friend's secret and this time I realized I was an idiot not for spelling secret wrong, but for revealing something so personal for the whole internet (i.e. my few readers) to read. So, I stumbled out to my computer and turned it on. I checked blogger. I was so relieved to find out it had just been a dream.

I really am a very reliable person and I don't go telling secrets, much less posting them on the internet. It's just my silly subconscious that does otherwise.

Something's in the water...

I am a night owl. Going to bed "early" for me is 11:30. On weeknights I make myself get into bed at 12:00 or 12:30 and am usually asleep by 1:00. I wake up at 8:00am most days for class, although in an ideal world I would wake up around 10:00am.

Last night, I fell asleep grading tests at 8:30 and slept hardcore until my phone woke me up at 9:20. Then I stumbled out of bed, put my PJs on, attempted to chat online but kept spelling things wrong, barely shut off my computer and crashed again. I woke up at around 11:00pm and realized I hadn't brushed my teeth so I got up and brushed them. Then back to sleep.

I woke up at 6:15 and went pee, then slept until my alarm went off at 8:00am. I didn't have to get up then, because I don't have class today until 1:00, but I wasn't tired so I got up and....wait for it...

I WENT JOGGING.

Well, to be fair I went jogging on Saturday after a 7 month hiatus from physical exercise (aside from walking about a billion blocks a day). But I was so sore yesterday I doubted I would have the will power to go today. But the sun was shining and I was in the right kind of mood that the piropos and honking wouldn't bother me.

It was a nice jog, and I even stopped to use those fun little machines in Parque Santa Maria (I think that's what the park is called).

Anyway, hopefully going to bed that early won't become part of my normal routine because that would require me to fall asleep before my classes are over most nights, but maybe I'll keep jogging. Maybe.

Oh, the places I've been

This is part of a group blog originating over at Don't Call Me Gringa.

A favorite question that Chileans like to ask me is, "Have you traveled outside of Santiago?" They are usually quite surprised when I start to list off the names of the places I've been.

As I was reading Emily's post I kept thinking, "I've been there! I've been there!" so I'll try not to bore you all with the same travel stories, but there might be some overlap.

First on my list is Pucon. My host sister had her civil wedding ceremony there in mid-February 2007, about a month and a half after I arrived in Chile. Pucon is known as the adventure-sports capital of Chile. You can clime Volcan Villarica, go white-water rafting, go hiking, horseback riding, and or canopying. However, I did none of that. After two weeks carousing through Bolivia and Peru with my study abroad mates, I was ready for a few days of pure relaxation. How can you not relax when this landscape surrounds you?

I also ate goat for the first time in my life and have to admit that it was pretty delicious.


After Pucon, I met two friends in Puerto Varas and we headed off to Chiloe. Chiloe is a large island off the coast of Chile, known for being a mysterious place full of witchcraft. It's also famous for it's wooden churches built by the Jesuits during the 17th and 18th centuries and are a UNESCO World Heritage Site.


Chiloe reminded me a lot of Vermont, but with a coastline. It was very green, and had lots of cows and rolling hills. Our first stop was Quemchi, a miniscule town on the coast somewhere between Ancud (the first city you encounter after getting off the ferry) and Castro, the largest city on the island. We were dropped off in the middle of the highway and then flagged down a little micro that took us to Quemchi. Right now I don't remember exactly why we went to Quemchi, because there was nothing in Quemchi except an internet cafe, a restaurant and a pretty nice hostel. Oh, and some boats.


We ate empanadas at the restaurant and made friends with the owner who had us sign his book. Six months later, a different group of travelers from the same program went to the same restaurant and found our entry. Small world!

After that, we spent a few days in Castro, with a day trip to Dalcaue and Achao. We ate some of the best seafood I've had in my life, toured the many artisan markets, went on a boat tour of the bay to see the palafitos and even went to Mass at the church in Castro.

The palafitos (or houses built on sticks) used to be all over the island of Chiloe, but most were destroyed during the giant earthquake/tsunami of 1962. The ones in Castro are the only ones that remain.

During the rest of my study abroad time in Chile I visited San Pedro de Atacama, Valparaiso, Viña del Mar, Pomaire and Mina Teniente/Sewell (near Rancagua). Since returning to Chile in January, I've been to La Serena and Valle del Elqui, Curico and Siete Tazas National Park, and Chimbarongo. I also went back to Viña/Valpo and Pomaire when my Mom and sister visited.

Here are some pictures of Serena and Siete Tazas, because in the linked posts I didn't put up any pictures.

D. and F. relaxing on the beach in La Serena

The Elqui Valley, home to Gabriela Mistral, UFOs, Observatories, Pisco and Papayas

Hitch-hiking to Siete Tazas

Three of the seven "tea-cups"

Now, the places I want to visit in Chile are: Valdivia, Puerto Varas and Parque Nacional Torres del Paine. Hopefully I'll make it there soon!

Wickertown!!

I was talking to my Dad last night and he commented that he liked my 300th blog post because it reminded him of me. I asked why and he said, "Because you like everything to be right, you always have." True statement. When I was little my friends called me bossy because I corrected everyone. Now I'm an English teacher and I get to do it for money. Sweet.

However, despite wanting everything to be "right" I am learning more and more to just sit back, relax, and go with the flow. I mean, how can you not when you live in South America? And my trip with Eileen to Chimbarongo proves just how good at this I've become. By the way, you can read her version of the tale over here.

So Eileen and I went to Chimbarongo on Monday, also known as Wickertown!! (yes, exclamation points are necessary). To get there, we took the MetroTren, which departs from Estacion Central and costs $1.700 to go to San Fernando. From San Fernando, we were to get off the train and continue on to Chimbarongo in a collectivo or bus.

Except, well, we were idiots and didn't get off at San Fernando. We mused as to why the train had been stopped for so long, but it wasn't until the doors were shut and the train started moving in the wrong direction that we realized: oops! We were assured that we could get off at Pelequen, the next stop, and wait for the train to pass by in the other direction. Bummer, but what else could we do? I considered yelling, "Stop the train!" but instead preserved my dignity, figuring that only worked in the movies.

I was pleasantly surprised that of all the towns we had passed on our way there (which was very scenic, but the disgustingly dirty windows prevented the taking of any pictures) Pelequen was the town with the onion domed church. Yes, that's right, a pink onion domed church in middle-of-nowhere Chile. Photographic evidence:


We thought perhaps it was dedicated to a Russian saint (Saint Sven of St. Petersberg, perhaps?) but we discovered that no, it was for Santa Rosa of Lima, Peru.


It was amazing: incredibly peaceful and I fell in love with the rose garden and the hanging wisteria.



Then we just mosey-on-overed to the highway and flagged down a bus. Not just any bus, a nice cushy bus with leather seats and air conditioning. The approximately 12 year old bus assistant confirmed he would take us to Chimbarongo for only $1.500 and we were off.

And then we were dropped off in Chimbarongo, which isn't much to look at, especially on a holiday. The plaza is nice and has a giant statue of a man making a wicker basket. Appropriate.

Now, if only the statue itself were made of wicker. But alas, I suppose it would rot.

We finally found bakery that sold us some much needed food (it was 3:00pm by this point!), a pino empanada for me and a cheese sandwhich for Eileen, and then we headed back to where we were told the wicker was.

And man did we find wicker. Stall upon stall of wicker chairs, tables, vases, frogs, shelves, cradles, birds, hampers, sofas, boxes, you name it, they had it. In wicker.


I considered buying a chair or maybe a shelf, but after a grumpy saleswoman quoted me the special gringa discount (aka raised the price a couple thousand pesos) on a shelf, I decided to settle on some honey. Fresh from the campo goey delisousness.

I was going to give it away as a present, but I think I'm going to keep it. It's that good. To be fair, I also bought a small box made of sticks (wicker sticks, I assume). The same lady with the gringa discount quoted Eileen $2.400 pesos per box, then went off to attend to some people who wanted ice cream (their wicker stand doubled as a convenient store...how convenient!) and her husband came out who quoted us the normal price of $1.500 pesos. That's more like it.

And then we flagged down another bus, not as cushy, and rode up with the drivers for a "ratito" which turned out to be more like until we got to Rancagua and two people got off and gave us their seats. It was perhaps the slowest bus ride home ever, but we arrived at last.

All in all, it was a great trip out of the smoggy hustle and bustle of Santiago. Next stop: the town that sells stoneware by the side of the road.

300th post!

I think I missed my blogoversary. I think it was in September. I don't remember. But I noticed just now that this is my 300th post! Well, actually, probably not because I have maybe 5-6 posts that I started but never finished. Someday that will happen.

Anyway, that aside, I have some exciting things to blog about, like how Eileen and I went to Wickertown (aka Chimbarongo) on Monday and had lots of wonderful adventures. It will be complete with pictures, I promise. (Although I don't promise they will be high quality. My camera...sucks).

But onto the point of this post.

Yesterday I was on the metro, taking a ride from hell to Los Heroes from San Joaquin at hora peak. I was still on Line 5, which is the MUCH less crowded leg of that journey, and I noticed a man whip out his English homework. He started filling in an exercise where he had to chose between "much" and "many". Any seasoned English teacher can tell you that "much" is a quantifying adverb used with uncountable nouns (like food, water, air, for example: I ate too much food last night) and that many is used with countable nouns (apples, people, hours, etc.). I watched as the man started to do the exercise and he had the rule reversed. He used much where he should have used many and vice versa. It was all I could do not to say, "Excuse me, would you like some help with that? You seem to have the rule reversed." But as Eileen noticed on Monday, I don't really talk to strangers, much less strangers on the metro (unless they talk to me first).

Then today I was walking to class and heard a conversation between some businessmen. It seems that one of them was gringo and the other two Chilean, and they were speaking in English. "Actually," one of them said, "the price of copper is stable." Nope, I wanted to say, you mean currently, not actually. Actually and actualmente are false cognates, common mistake.

This is a problem. I like my job, but I do not want to live it 24-7. I need to learn to let go and not analyze everyone's English.

Case in point: I'm at the Institute right now and some teachers are talking about how to say hair straightener in English, and one of them said "hair iron", which I really doubt exists as a word in English, but is rather a direct translation. It was all I could do not to yell out, "hair straightener!!" Why do I care? I don't know. But I really want to stop caring, because boy is it tiring.

Gringo Food in Chile

It's pretty surprising how much typical gringo food you can find here in Chile. Cream cheese, peanut butter, salad dressing, good pasta sauce (gees, are Americans obsessed with condiments?), oreos, Kraft mac and cheese, pancake mix and...you guessed it...maple syrup.

They have the disgusting fake stuff that shouldn't even bear the name "maple" because there's nothing maple about it, but they also have 100% real, delicious maple syrup from Safeway. At Lider it only costs about $10 for 250 ml, which given the price of real maple syrup in the U.S., actually isn't half bad.

The Safeway syrup isn't from Vermont. I can't remember exactly where it's from because I haven't looked at a bottle recently in the store, but I think it may be Canadian or from New York.

However, yesterday I was in Jumbo and I saw this:That's right! Maple Grove Farms of Vermont in CHILE! Now if that isn't globalization, I don't know what is.

I got really excited, because this bottle was only about $5.00. I thought, well, I don't care if my maple syrup has a strawberry flavor if it's only $5.00! But then I checked the ingredients. First thing listed? Corn syrup. It's not even real maple syrup!

So shame on you, Maple Grove, for sending fake syrup to Chile. You're giving Vermont a bad name.

Thanks, Carlos

You never know who you'll see aboard public transportation in Santiago. Micros (buses) tend to be a bit more "colorful" with their musicians and vendors. However, since I've moved, I usually just take the metro unless I'm trying to be thrifty and my errand takes less than two hours, in which I will take the metro there and a bus back for only $400 pesos. Yes, I'm that frugal. Blame my parents (maybe? I actually don't know where I got my frugality from).

But you do get a wide variety of people on the metro, couples making out like crazy right next to you, creepy business men who stare at you, cassanovas who give up their seat to the dama linda (pretty lady), middle aged women who stand over you when you have a coveted seat and sigh until you give up your seat (just because my feet are younger doesn't mean they don't hurt too!), a trio of gossiping secretaries and the lady with a cart full of something on Line 1 during rush hour who yells at everyone in the car that she's getting off at Los Heroes and they'd better move to let her through.

Then you also, apparently, sometimes find yourself behind a pair of members of Hell's Angel Latino complete with bandannas, sunglasses, leather pants, leather vests, cowboy boots and most importantly: tatoos EVERYWHERE. Why they weren't out cruising Santiago on their Harley's, I don't know. But wanna know the best part?

Scarlitos was tatooed on one of the duo's neck. Now if that's not a great bilingual pun, I don't know what is.

So here's to you, Hell's Angel Carlos, for giving me a laugh during my rush hour commute.

Just a Dream

Compared to my college years, my life in Chile has been pretty stress free. Yes, occasionally I have what I like to call "emotional stress" regarding interpersonal relationships, but my job is pretty painless. On a daily basis the most stressful thing I have to worry about is if I have enough photocopies for my next class, or (only occasionally) if I actually know what I'm going to teach that day. In general I plan and prepare because it makes teaching so much easier.

I was talking to a student today about talking while sleeping. I have always been a HUGE sleep talker, just ask anyone who has shared a bedroom with me. When we were little, my best friend and I used to have "conversations" while we were both asleep, so much so that her mother used to think we were still awake and would come in to scold us, only to find us both fast asleep and "talking" to each other. Once I yelled at my room mate for making too much noise and she got offended, only to find out that I had no recollection of that the next morning. I was asleep. I also used to wake myself up from the sound of my own voice.

However, ever since graduating college, I don't think I've talked in my sleep. Granted, I haven't shared a room with very often since then (except for a few nights here or there), but I also haven't woken myself up talking which used to happen a lot. My student today seemed to think that perhaps it was because I'm not as stressed as I used to be. I think he might be onto something.

That being said, I still have very stressful dreams. In fact, I call them nightmares. Last night I had a doozy. Here it is:

It was a few days before I was leaving for the United States. For some reason, in order to be able to enter the U.S., I needed to get a form stamped by the Ministerio del Exterior (not sure if that even exists). I was so busy that I kept putting it off, until it was one day before I was leaving and I realized I hadn't gotten the stupid form stamped. However, I had to teach a class that day and the Ministerio del Exterior closed before my class would be over. So my genius idea was to assign a really long task to my students, skip out of class, take a taxi, go to the Ministerio del Exterior, get my paper signed and come back to class (all within a half hour and without the Institute "catching" me). So, I made my class write a poem, but not just any poem, a poem using about 50 words I wrote on the board and that had to rhyme. Then I ran out of class and got into the first taxi. I told him to take me to the Ministerio and he started driving. so. slowly. I told him to hurry up, but he said he didn't want to go over the speed limit. It took what seemed like hours to get there. As soon as we arrived, I told the taxi to wait for me and he replied that he would wait only 15 minutes. I figured that would be enough time and zoomed into the building. I asked the Atención al Cliente (Customer Service) booth where I needed to go and they told me the 5th floor. I went to the elevators and pushed the button, and noticed that the elevators were on the 26th and 17th floor. They took forever to get down to the first floor, and when an elevator arrived it was the size of a small broom closet and about 10 people tried to squeeze in. It was more crowded than the metro at hora peak. So I pushed my way onto the elevator and then off again on the fifth floor. It was a huge place with lots of different cubicles, kind of what a newspaper office looks like in the movies. There was a guard and she asked what I wanted. I told her I needed to get my form stamped. She asked to see the form. So I started digging through my backpack to get the form out.

I. Couldn't. Find. The Form. I looked and looked. I took everything out of my backpack as the guard stared over me, tapping her foot. I looked at my watch and realized I had two minutes until the taxi left me and that no way was I going to get back to the Institute before class was over. I kept fruitlessly searching through my backpack as the minutes ticked by until finally...

I woke up.

Thank God it was just a dream.

Embrace the Spring

I am from Vermont, which I am constantly describing as a "small state next to New York near the border of Canada" because no one knows where Vermont is, and if they do, they know it as VERmon and not verMONT, and I refuse to say the name of my state incorrectly. Consequently, a lot of people, including the entirety of one of my classes, thinks I'm from New York City (or on the rare occasion Canada) and they are constantly asking me about tourist locations, which I have visited, but have no insiders perspective on. I should probably correct them, but sometimes it's just more fun not to.

Back to the point. In Vermont we have 4-5 months of winter, if we're lucky. (If not, 6). And I'm not talking about the kind of winter where you say, "Ohh, it's a little chilly out, maybe I'll put my fleece jacket on. Oh darn that nasty rain. Oh wow! It's snowing! Close all the schools!" No no no my friends. I'm talking feet of snow, freezing rain, blizzards, 20 degrees (farenheit, celisius too) below zero, so cold you can't go outside because you can't breath and your boogers freeze in your nose, not to mention your wet hair you were too lazy to blow dry. It takes a special kind of person to weather a winter in Vermont.

If I remember correctly, a significant amount of snow had melted before I took this picture

Winter is then followed by what we call "mud season" where literally everything turns to mud and cars get stuck up to their axles on back roads and people put two-by-fours down so that visitors won't sink up to their waists while trying to get to their front door.

A common sight during mud season. Courtesy the Burlington FreePress.

Then, if we're lucky, we get two months of "summer" (aka black fly season), which really only comes once every-other year because the other years it rains. all. summer. long.

Next comes perhaps a month of fall, also known as "Leaf-Peeper Season" which sounds kind of dirty, but really just involves senior citizens from all over the USA flocking to Vermont to see the pretty trees (and they indeed are pretty). Then, that's right, you guessed it, winter again!!

See, the leaves really are pretty!

So that's why, as soon as most of the snow melted, you could find my friends and I in our bikinis (or one pieces in my modest case) in the back yard, soaking up the meagre sun rays next to the stubborn pile of snow that refused to melt until June. In Vermont we REJOYCE the coming of spring by wearing flip flops through the aformentioned mud. It reaches 50 degrees out? Time for some shorts.

Today is a lovely spring day here in Santiago. According to weather dot com (yes, I just spelled that out...no, I don't know why) it's 60 degrees (F) out and mostly cloudy. I left my house wearing khakis, my Dansko clogs and a cardigan. What was everyone else wearing? Turtlenecks, scarves, boots, and I even saw one lady in a parka.

Seriously, people? The Santiago winter, though milder than Vermont winters by far, is no walk in the park. It's wet, cold, dreary and smoggy. So why not get excited by the warmer weather? Let go of winter. Embrace the spring.

Maybe it's as my mom said, everyone in Santiago has thinner blood. I hope it's not catching becuase I'm going home to Vermont winter for two weeks and I would prefer to come back as a person, not an ice cube.

Pondering some cultural differences

I have been in Chile for 10 months, 2 days continuously, not counting the 6 1/2 months I studied abroad or the month I spent doing research for my thesis. So in total, I've spent 17 1/2 months here in Chile. That's almost a year and a half!

I have to say that I think I'm pretty well adjusted. There are things that bother me sometimes, like inefficiency, long lines, or bad customer service, but all in all, I like living in Santiago and for now, I don't want to change a thing.

Most of the time I don't think about what would be okay or not to do or say in the US, because I've been here for so long that sometimes I forget that I ever lived in a different way. I just live and follow the societal rules of Chilean culture the best I can, and so far I haven't committed any major snafus.

However, there comes some moments when something happens and it hits me: that would never be okay in the U.S. For example, the other day I met with one of my bosses so he could pay me for my classes. He was in a hurry so he drove by my apartment, I got in his car, we drove around the block and he handed me my check. Kind of sketchy and drug-deal-ish, but that's not what I'm getting at. As I got into the car he says to me, "Hola, preciosa." (Hello, beautiful.) People here are very open with their terms of endearment. The man at the bookstore where I buy pens and get photocopies calls me "linda" (pretty), kind of similar to how some store clerks in the US will call you "darling" or "hun". Some of the secretaries at the Institute call me "mi reina" (my queen) but mostly they are women, so it doesn't bother me. But this man is my boss. While I can justify the storeclerk or the secretaries, I can't ever think of a situation in the US where a boss could call an employee "beautiful" without worrying about a sexual harrassment suit.

Another thing is the schedules. Everything functions later here. The fact that I work until either 9:00 or 10:00pm four nights a week should tell you something. On the weekends, people don't even think about going out until around midnight, or maybe even later. Last night I was waiting for a promised phone call, a phone call that was promised at 1:00pm to be in "un ratito" (a little while). What time did this phone call arrive? At 12:09am. Yes, ELEVEN HOURS LATER. And at midnight. Would this fly in the US? Well, waiting for someone to call is pretty universal and transcends cultures, especially when it's a woman waiting for a man to call. But calling at midnight? Unless this was college and the other person knew the person waiting for the call was out partying or up late studying, I don't think calling at midnight would ever be a valid choice. But here in Chile, midnight on a weekend is like 9:00pm on a weekend in the US. I suppose. Although I do give the phone call props for ever arriving at all. In the US I would probably still be waiting.

I guess it's a good thing I live in Chile, or else I'd have a sexual harrassment suit to deal with while I wait patiently for a phone call that may or may not arrive.

Public Service Announcement

Tomorrow is the Superclasico Soccer Game between the University of Chile and Colo-Colo. It will be held at 4:00pm at the Estadio Monumental on Avenida Departamental in Macul.

That means LOTS OF DRUNK SOCCER FANS ON THE STREETS.

Be careful, please!

Homeward Bound

I'm going home for Christmas! I had always planned on going home in December to spend the holidays with my family, but I had to wait until the Institute granted me permission which they just did! Hooray!

Two weeks probably is going to fly by, but I am going to do as many things and see as many people as I can.

As of now, I'll be in the states December 22-January 3, but I'm going to try to change my ticket so that I can be home either the 19th or 20th.

So I'll be home in less than three months! I can't wait.

Sunshine on my pillow makes me happy

I am loving the weather in Santiago right now. It's sunny but not too hot. I am a sun-child, 100%. I couldn't imagine ever living in a place like London or Seattle where it rains all the time. I hate rain, always. I also detest gray dreary days. Partly cloudy is okay.

Santiaguinos like the rain. Rain means cleaner air the next day and pretty snowy mountains. Yes, these things are true and nice, but the grayness of it all just gets me really down. If there are 6 million Santiaguinos loving the rain, I figure that it's okay that one little gringa ex-pat hates it.

So that's why I'm really happy that summer is coming and that it never rains during the summer. Yes, it gets unbearably hot, but at least the sun comes out every day. I never forget sunscreen, though. The rays are really strong down here near the hole in the ozone layer!