This past weekend my computer started to fritz out. It's always been a little whacky. I mean, it's a cheap-ish Dell with Windows Vista, what can I really expect? Despite that, though, I've had no major problems with it, which I think is just short of a major miracle.
Anyway, occasionally it used to overheat and shut off. This happened maybe once or twice a month, especially in the hot summer months. To remedy this, my sister gave me this special pad thingy that is supposed to absorb the heat of the laptop and cool it down. It worked well for a few months, and then last week it started overheating like CRAZY and I couldn't get any important work done because I was afraid everthing would just be lost if my computer randomly shut down again.
So I decided it was time to take it to revision tecnica (anyone know how to say this in English?). The lady was very nice, but told me she thought there was a problem with my hard drive (she heard a ticking noise, aparently that signals hard drive problems) and so she would need to keep it for a whole week.
A WEEK?!?!
I'm kind of ashamed to admit this, but my computer is super important to me. I don't have TV at my apartment, so it's my main source of entertainment. It's the way I stay in touch with my family and friends back home, and to some extent with my friend here in Chile since calling is so expensive. To top it all off, it's Easter this weekend, which means most everything will be closed Friday-Sunday, and since I'm probably not leaving Santiago, I'm afraid of being REALLY bored.
Not to mention the fact that I conduct one of my private classes through Skype, and stupidly didn't even realize that not having a computer would put a serious wrench in that. So now I'm at probably the only internet cafe in Santiago that is open before 10:00am, waiting for my student so we can have class. I hope the other patrons don't mind...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Summer Part II
Technically, it's fall right now. It has been for about a week or so. There are a few subtle clues that tell you this. First, the colegio students are back in session. Uniformed children can be seen (and heard) all over the city. People are back at work; the metro and buses are more crowded. It doesn't get light out until 7:30am (due to lack of daylight savings from the earthquake, which will be remedied on Saturday).
Other than that, you would think it was summer.
It's HOT. Still. Today's high is 88. Tomorrow's high is 83.
Really, I normally don't mind the heat. The only problem is my apartment is like an oven (which will be lovely in a few months!). Because of Charlie, I can't leave the sliding glass doors open that go out onto the balcony, so no breeze. I have my bedroom windows open, but the shade is pulled all the way down so he doesn't fall out. Charlie doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he will nap in the sun, despite the fact that it's probably 80 degrees in here. He also has a coat of fur that I do not. Apparently, he's friolento.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to "fall", in Chile known as the week of somewhat cooler weather before the rain and cold set in and when all the dead brown leaves fall to the ground. I'm from Vermont, I'm kind of a fall snob, and Chile is dearly lacking in this category.
I'm not going to hold my breath, though, because I'll probably be waiting two more months until Summer Part II has run its course.
Other than that, you would think it was summer.
It's HOT. Still. Today's high is 88. Tomorrow's high is 83.
Really, I normally don't mind the heat. The only problem is my apartment is like an oven (which will be lovely in a few months!). Because of Charlie, I can't leave the sliding glass doors open that go out onto the balcony, so no breeze. I have my bedroom windows open, but the shade is pulled all the way down so he doesn't fall out. Charlie doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he will nap in the sun, despite the fact that it's probably 80 degrees in here. He also has a coat of fur that I do not. Apparently, he's friolento.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to "fall", in Chile known as the week of somewhat cooler weather before the rain and cold set in and when all the dead brown leaves fall to the ground. I'm from Vermont, I'm kind of a fall snob, and Chile is dearly lacking in this category.
I'm not going to hold my breath, though, because I'll probably be waiting two more months until Summer Part II has run its course.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Tugging at my heartstrings
In Santiago, on a daily basis, you will be asked for money on the street. There are many manifestations of this, from the typical beggar with a tin can (although these days it seems to have been replaced by a paper cup) to "college students" asking for a donation in exchange for a slip of paper with some poetry, to old women asking you to buy some bandaids to help them out (ayudame con unos parche curitas) to musicians on the micro, to the human statue by Mall Panoramico (or Paseo Ahumada, depending) to people who will try to sell you things as you dine outside, and on and on.
I have a loose policy when it comes to giving money on the street (or in the micro, but never in the metro*). I don't give to flat out beggars. Okay, I have once. It was this guy who sits on a bench near my house and he caught me on a day when I was felling especially generous and good-natured. But anyway, I don't usually give to straight out beggars. Why? Well, there is this woman who begs outside the Manuel Montt metro station. I see her almost every day. She is a little person, so it's easy to recognize her. One day, I went by and noticed that she had dyed her hair. I'm sorry, but if you're destitute enough to beg, you don't dye your hair. Right? Someone please tell me if I'm totally off base here. Then, there is another man, who is blind, who begs on the other side of the Manuel Montt metro station, and one day, in the middle of begging, I see him whip out a cell phone that is nicer than mine.** Anyway, those two incidents have me kind of jaded when it comes to giving to straight up beggars.
Unless they are of the clapping and singing-that-makes-my-ears-bleed variety, I do tend to give to musicians, both on the micro and the street. What can I say, I like music, and a lot of them are truly talented.
I give to college students "selling" their poetry if it's a young guy who won't leave me alone unless I do, or if I'm feeling charitable.
The rest depends on how I feel, although I do try to give to the legitimate organizations, as long as I know which organization they are.
There is one category that I haven't mentioned yet.
The Chinchineros.
In case you don't want to watch the video, here's a photo.
99.9% of the time I give money to the Chinchineros. I can't really explain why, but they make me so sad, even though I know that's the opposite of what they're supposed to do. It's a Chilean art, a part of the culture here, that's especially popular during the Fiestas Patrias in September.
But I just can't help it.
I have a couple of theories as to why. First of all, the first chinchinero I ever saw was a little boy, approximately six years old, outside the Bravissimo near Guardia Vieja. He was so young and yet (in my mind, at least) his family needed him to be on the street, playing his drum, to survive. Heartbreaking.
Secondly, the way their heel is attached to the drum gives me the impression that they are trapped, like slaves to their drum. I know it has a completely practical purpose, but I can't get the image of slavery out of my mind.
And finally, they kind of remind me of this:
Which in turn reminds me of the scene in Aladdin when Jafar turns Abu into one of them and he stays trapped that way until Jafar stupidly wishes to be a genie. I watched Aladdin a lot as a child, and Abu was one of my favorite characters (the scene is around 1:53).
Anyway, the chinchineros make me sad, and that, in turn, makes me give them money. That's probably the definition of a sucker, but I don't care. They just get to me, those chinchineros.
*The informal economy is largely absent from inside the metro (stations, platforms and trains), because I think there are policies against it.
** My cell phone is by no means the ultimate model, but it's not the crappiest model around either. Solidly middle of the line, I'd say.
I have a loose policy when it comes to giving money on the street (or in the micro, but never in the metro*). I don't give to flat out beggars. Okay, I have once. It was this guy who sits on a bench near my house and he caught me on a day when I was felling especially generous and good-natured. But anyway, I don't usually give to straight out beggars. Why? Well, there is this woman who begs outside the Manuel Montt metro station. I see her almost every day. She is a little person, so it's easy to recognize her. One day, I went by and noticed that she had dyed her hair. I'm sorry, but if you're destitute enough to beg, you don't dye your hair. Right? Someone please tell me if I'm totally off base here. Then, there is another man, who is blind, who begs on the other side of the Manuel Montt metro station, and one day, in the middle of begging, I see him whip out a cell phone that is nicer than mine.** Anyway, those two incidents have me kind of jaded when it comes to giving to straight up beggars.
Unless they are of the clapping and singing-that-makes-my-ears-bleed variety, I do tend to give to musicians, both on the micro and the street. What can I say, I like music, and a lot of them are truly talented.
I give to college students "selling" their poetry if it's a young guy who won't leave me alone unless I do, or if I'm feeling charitable.
The rest depends on how I feel, although I do try to give to the legitimate organizations, as long as I know which organization they are.
There is one category that I haven't mentioned yet.
The Chinchineros.
In case you don't want to watch the video, here's a photo.
99.9% of the time I give money to the Chinchineros. I can't really explain why, but they make me so sad, even though I know that's the opposite of what they're supposed to do. It's a Chilean art, a part of the culture here, that's especially popular during the Fiestas Patrias in September.But I just can't help it.
I have a couple of theories as to why. First of all, the first chinchinero I ever saw was a little boy, approximately six years old, outside the Bravissimo near Guardia Vieja. He was so young and yet (in my mind, at least) his family needed him to be on the street, playing his drum, to survive. Heartbreaking.
Secondly, the way their heel is attached to the drum gives me the impression that they are trapped, like slaves to their drum. I know it has a completely practical purpose, but I can't get the image of slavery out of my mind.
And finally, they kind of remind me of this:
Which in turn reminds me of the scene in Aladdin when Jafar turns Abu into one of them and he stays trapped that way until Jafar stupidly wishes to be a genie. I watched Aladdin a lot as a child, and Abu was one of my favorite characters (the scene is around 1:53).
Anyway, the chinchineros make me sad, and that, in turn, makes me give them money. That's probably the definition of a sucker, but I don't care. They just get to me, those chinchineros.
*The informal economy is largely absent from inside the metro (stations, platforms and trains), because I think there are policies against it.
** My cell phone is by no means the ultimate model, but it's not the crappiest model around either. Solidly middle of the line, I'd say.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Zafrada
I've been waiting to see if anyone else will post about this, but I haven't seen anything in the Gringos living in Chile blogosphere. If you're in Chile, I'm sure you've heard of him unless you've been living under a rock. I mean, I don't even have a TV and I know about him. But for those of you outside of Chile, here's a peek.
Who is he?
Victor "Zafrada" Díaz, from Iloca, Chile.
Here's the video that started it all (with English subtitles):
There are many funny, charming things about this little boy. First of all, he mispronounces the word "frazada" (blanket) and says "zafrada" which has now become his nick name. His mannerisms are so adorable. As one of my students said, he's like a young old man. I love the part where he talks about the food in his school cafeteria and says "Es medio mala!" and then smiles.
So Zafrada's popularity has skyrocketed. They brought him to Santiago last week and he was on the TVN morning show. They gave him a laptop, they gave his Dad a new boat. President Sebastian Piñera went to visit Iloca and brought him (among other things) a "zafrada". They found Susana, the girl he talks about liking in the video, and they were reunited (only come to find out, she's 5 years older than him!). They re-built his friend Benja's store. Iloca was one of the (or perhaps THE) first town damaged by the earthquake/tsunami to get a temporary school.
I've heard mixed commentaries about Zafrada's stardom. Some people say that the media is taking advantage of him to get people to donate to the earthquake relief efforts. Others say it's not fair that he has gotten so many things, and by extension that Iloca has gotten so many things when so many are in need. Some have said that it doesn't matter, that it's good that people help no matter what their motivations are.
I'm not really sure where I stand. I think this little boy is adorable, and I'm glad people are helping him. I hope everyone who needs help after the earthquake is getting it too.
Who is he?
Victor "Zafrada" Díaz, from Iloca, Chile.
Here's the video that started it all (with English subtitles):
There are many funny, charming things about this little boy. First of all, he mispronounces the word "frazada" (blanket) and says "zafrada" which has now become his nick name. His mannerisms are so adorable. As one of my students said, he's like a young old man. I love the part where he talks about the food in his school cafeteria and says "Es medio mala!" and then smiles.
So Zafrada's popularity has skyrocketed. They brought him to Santiago last week and he was on the TVN morning show. They gave him a laptop, they gave his Dad a new boat. President Sebastian Piñera went to visit Iloca and brought him (among other things) a "zafrada". They found Susana, the girl he talks about liking in the video, and they were reunited (only come to find out, she's 5 years older than him!). They re-built his friend Benja's store. Iloca was one of the (or perhaps THE) first town damaged by the earthquake/tsunami to get a temporary school.
I've heard mixed commentaries about Zafrada's stardom. Some people say that the media is taking advantage of him to get people to donate to the earthquake relief efforts. Others say it's not fair that he has gotten so many things, and by extension that Iloca has gotten so many things when so many are in need. Some have said that it doesn't matter, that it's good that people help no matter what their motivations are.
I'm not really sure where I stand. I think this little boy is adorable, and I'm glad people are helping him. I hope everyone who needs help after the earthquake is getting it too.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Hot men in the city
So, hot men exist in Norway, as Annje has pointed out. In Santiago, Chile, on the other hand...
Well, first a disclaimer. I've been thinking about writing this post for awhile now, but I was worried about hurting people's feelings. I know, I know, I'm such a pansy and should just be more cutthroat, but I'm just one of those people who doesn't like others to feel bad.
But here it goes anyway. I hope I don't offend anyone too much.
So men in Chile are not that attractive. Now, let me clarify that statement. There are many attractive men in Chile, and I personally know many. But I insist that if you take the male population as a whole and analyze it, the results are not so good. It might have something to do with the fact that many chilenos think that mullets are an appropriate hairstyle choice. Perhaps if we did a little scissor surgery the situation would slightly improve.
That's why seeing an attractive member of the male species out on the street is kind of exciting. And now, I know where most of them work. Friday I was walking down Providencia and coming right at me was a herd of fairly attractive men, all wearing gray polos with "LG" embroidered on the pocket.
Friday was a good day with regards to hot men, because as two friends and I were dining on tapas and wine, we spotted perhaps THE MOST attractive Chilean man ever. He was downright gorgeous. At first he was sitting by himself, then we were all disappointed to see his girlfriend arrive. Bummer.
Which brings me to another point. When I see couples around, usually one is more attractive than the other. Sometimes it's the guy, other times it's the girl. More often than not, I see mismatched couples. Hottie's girlfriend was not as hot as he was, although she was cute.
Remember, folks, that looks aren't everything. Not by a long shot. From the quantity of gringas here in Chile that are dating/engaged/married to Chilean men, they must make good partners. And, duh, I've had my own share of good experiences with Chilean men too. In fact, the majority of men I've dated in my life have been Chilean.
So anyway, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post, but to finish, I'll leave you with a picture of the cutest Chilean guy around.
Don't you agree?
Well, first a disclaimer. I've been thinking about writing this post for awhile now, but I was worried about hurting people's feelings. I know, I know, I'm such a pansy and should just be more cutthroat, but I'm just one of those people who doesn't like others to feel bad.
But here it goes anyway. I hope I don't offend anyone too much.
So men in Chile are not that attractive. Now, let me clarify that statement. There are many attractive men in Chile, and I personally know many. But I insist that if you take the male population as a whole and analyze it, the results are not so good. It might have something to do with the fact that many chilenos think that mullets are an appropriate hairstyle choice. Perhaps if we did a little scissor surgery the situation would slightly improve.
That's why seeing an attractive member of the male species out on the street is kind of exciting. And now, I know where most of them work. Friday I was walking down Providencia and coming right at me was a herd of fairly attractive men, all wearing gray polos with "LG" embroidered on the pocket.
Friday was a good day with regards to hot men, because as two friends and I were dining on tapas and wine, we spotted perhaps THE MOST attractive Chilean man ever. He was downright gorgeous. At first he was sitting by himself, then we were all disappointed to see his girlfriend arrive. Bummer.
Which brings me to another point. When I see couples around, usually one is more attractive than the other. Sometimes it's the guy, other times it's the girl. More often than not, I see mismatched couples. Hottie's girlfriend was not as hot as he was, although she was cute.
Remember, folks, that looks aren't everything. Not by a long shot. From the quantity of gringas here in Chile that are dating/engaged/married to Chilean men, they must make good partners. And, duh, I've had my own share of good experiences with Chilean men too. In fact, the majority of men I've dated in my life have been Chilean.
So anyway, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post, but to finish, I'll leave you with a picture of the cutest Chilean guy around.
Don't you agree?
Friday, March 19, 2010
How a dog person ends up with a cat
As Charlie runs like a madman around my apartment, pouncing on imaginary things and every once and a while pausing to mew at me as if to ask, "Why aren't you running around chasing all of these magical things?" I ask myself, "How the heck did I end up with a cat?"
My answer to the age-old question: dogs or cats? has always been dogs. I'm not sure why...maybe it's because my family always had dogs growing up, and it wasn't until my sister wanted a cat that we got Cuddles, perhaps the most inappropriately named cat ever. Period. Imagine being a fourth grader and going into school with ugly scratches all over your face and having to explain to your teacher and friends that your cat did this, and yes, your cat was also named Cuddles. She liked to sleep on the stairs and to be able to go up to my room I would literally have to do a running jump over her or else she would gnaw the heck out of my leg. Unpleasant. Now that I think about it, maybe Cuddles is the reason I'm a dog person.
Cuddles ran away and was probably eaten by some animal. I was only sad because my sister was sad. I still remember her standing at the back door calling and calling Cuddles' name with tears in her eyes. Despite this cat's tendency to attack and be anything BUT cuddly, my sister loved her. I can't say I missed the daily leg gnawing or face scratching, though.
Then we got Oscar, and of course I loved him, because he didn't scratch me (well only if I rubbed his belly) and overall was a good cat. He didn't much like to be held, but was affectionate, especially around meal times.
However, through all this time, my dogs were always my favorite. Buddy, the doberman mix my parents got before I was born, was my best, well, buddy. I used to ride him around like a horse. However, the doberman got the best of him and he became over-protective when my brother was born. For years after, the UPS man would drop our packages off at my grandparents' house for fear of Buddy. He was gentle as a lamb around us kids, but the last straw was when he wouldn't let my grandfather in the house. He had to be put down. Then we got Tippy, who was my main pet throughout my childhood. She was a beagle-border collie mix who liked to chase cars and eat cow manure. She always smelled like the barn and on two separate occasions brought dead snakes into the house, but we loved her. She was completely loyal to us. She loved to have her belly rubbed. When we would get home from vacation, she was so happy to see us that she would race around the yard in circles. And now, Ruby and Stella, well I love them to pieces.
But now I have Charlie and in the few days I've had him he has already brought me so much joy. I honestly never though I could feel this for a cat. I mean, I'm probably more of a cat person than many dog-people you may have met, due to the simple fact that I just love animals in general (when you grow up surrounded my hundreds of cows plus Nutmeg, my horse, too many barn cats to count, my dogs and the occasional chicken or pig, it's inevitable).
Anyway, the point is, I love my cat. I can't promise this will be the last post about him ever, but I promise this won't turn into an "I love my pet" blog because that's just boring. But he's pretty great, especially right now as he is running like a maniac around my bed pouncing on my pajama pants as if they were his mortal enemy. Priceless.
My answer to the age-old question: dogs or cats? has always been dogs. I'm not sure why...maybe it's because my family always had dogs growing up, and it wasn't until my sister wanted a cat that we got Cuddles, perhaps the most inappropriately named cat ever. Period. Imagine being a fourth grader and going into school with ugly scratches all over your face and having to explain to your teacher and friends that your cat did this, and yes, your cat was also named Cuddles. She liked to sleep on the stairs and to be able to go up to my room I would literally have to do a running jump over her or else she would gnaw the heck out of my leg. Unpleasant. Now that I think about it, maybe Cuddles is the reason I'm a dog person.
Cuddles ran away and was probably eaten by some animal. I was only sad because my sister was sad. I still remember her standing at the back door calling and calling Cuddles' name with tears in her eyes. Despite this cat's tendency to attack and be anything BUT cuddly, my sister loved her. I can't say I missed the daily leg gnawing or face scratching, though.
Then we got Oscar, and of course I loved him, because he didn't scratch me (well only if I rubbed his belly) and overall was a good cat. He didn't much like to be held, but was affectionate, especially around meal times.
However, through all this time, my dogs were always my favorite. Buddy, the doberman mix my parents got before I was born, was my best, well, buddy. I used to ride him around like a horse. However, the doberman got the best of him and he became over-protective when my brother was born. For years after, the UPS man would drop our packages off at my grandparents' house for fear of Buddy. He was gentle as a lamb around us kids, but the last straw was when he wouldn't let my grandfather in the house. He had to be put down. Then we got Tippy, who was my main pet throughout my childhood. She was a beagle-border collie mix who liked to chase cars and eat cow manure. She always smelled like the barn and on two separate occasions brought dead snakes into the house, but we loved her. She was completely loyal to us. She loved to have her belly rubbed. When we would get home from vacation, she was so happy to see us that she would race around the yard in circles. And now, Ruby and Stella, well I love them to pieces.
But now I have Charlie and in the few days I've had him he has already brought me so much joy. I honestly never though I could feel this for a cat. I mean, I'm probably more of a cat person than many dog-people you may have met, due to the simple fact that I just love animals in general (when you grow up surrounded my hundreds of cows plus Nutmeg, my horse, too many barn cats to count, my dogs and the occasional chicken or pig, it's inevitable).
Anyway, the point is, I love my cat. I can't promise this will be the last post about him ever, but I promise this won't turn into an "I love my pet" blog because that's just boring. But he's pretty great, especially right now as he is running like a maniac around my bed pouncing on my pajama pants as if they were his mortal enemy. Priceless.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Meet....Charlie Sylvester
Yes, I've become that person. The crazy person who adopts animals off the streets and then talks about them all the time.This is my new kitty. He's 2 1/2 months old. My friend found him in an abandoned building on Huerfanos in Barrio Brasil where a lot of stray cats live.
He doesn't have a name yet. I'm accepting suggestions. So far, my favorite choices are "Hurley" and "Sylvester".
He's still pretty skittish, which is to be expected. He can't decide if I'm friend or foe and still hisses at me when I pick him up, but I think it's kind of cute. He mews a lot. I can't figure out why, because he has food, water and a bed (although he likes to sleep in his litter box....which I think is maybe not a good thing....because where's he going to do his business if he thinks that's his bed??)
Anyway, what should I name this little ball of fluff?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Seriously, Chile?
Dear Chile,
I love you, really I do, but you're really testing my patience right now.
First, the earthquake. Okay, I know you were due for one and had a lot of tension built up that you just had to get out, but I wish you could have done it in a less destructive way. And that tsunami wasn't really necessary, was it?
I could also live without those aftershocks you keep sending. They've got me all paranoid. Everyone is sick of me saying "Está temblando?" every two seconds. I've even started to think that the sound of my beating heart is an aftershock.
However, I was getting over the aftershock paranoia, especially after the big ones you gave us on Thursday. I figured that after that, there wouldn't be any more big ones.
Yesterday and today I barely felt any aftershocks. I was starting to feel comfortable again, Chile.
Then, THEN you go and shut off all the electricity. In practically THE WHOLE COUNTRY. From Taltal to Chiloe, there was no power, and there's still no power in 55% of the country.
My nerves are shot, Chile. Can we please get back to normal so everyone can just relax? We've got a lot of work to do to rebuild, and I would be oh so grateful if you could cooperate a bit.
Thanks a million.
Besos,
Abby
I love you, really I do, but you're really testing my patience right now.
First, the earthquake. Okay, I know you were due for one and had a lot of tension built up that you just had to get out, but I wish you could have done it in a less destructive way. And that tsunami wasn't really necessary, was it?
I could also live without those aftershocks you keep sending. They've got me all paranoid. Everyone is sick of me saying "Está temblando?" every two seconds. I've even started to think that the sound of my beating heart is an aftershock.
However, I was getting over the aftershock paranoia, especially after the big ones you gave us on Thursday. I figured that after that, there wouldn't be any more big ones.
Yesterday and today I barely felt any aftershocks. I was starting to feel comfortable again, Chile.
Then, THEN you go and shut off all the electricity. In practically THE WHOLE COUNTRY. From Taltal to Chiloe, there was no power, and there's still no power in 55% of the country.
My nerves are shot, Chile. Can we please get back to normal so everyone can just relax? We've got a lot of work to do to rebuild, and I would be oh so grateful if you could cooperate a bit.
Thanks a million.
Besos,
Abby
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Strong Aftershocks
The fight or flight instinct that humans have in times of emergency is truly amazing.
At 11:39 this morning, I found myself lying on a cot at the physical therapists, playing solitaire on my iPod, with tiny electric shocks pulsating into my knee. Then it started shaking. I thought I was imagining things. Then everyone started freaking out as it got stronger. So I hopped off my bed, knee still pulsating, and went to stand with a nurse by the column of the building. The quake passed, and I returned to my cot. Fifteen minutes later, the physical therapist put some 6 pound weights on my ankles so I could do my exercizes.
"Now you really can't escape!" She joked. I laughed nervously.
Literally five minutes later, it started shaking again. Faster than you can say boo, I ripped those ankle weights off my legs and headed for the column. All I wanted was to be out of those weights and able to move to safety.
And a few minutes after that, right after I had gotten the ankle weights on, it started shaking AGAIN. Seriously, earth. Stop moving NOW! I was thinking.
After the first quake, a few people had left, notably some older women who were really scared. After the second and third aftershocks, all the patients left except for me and one other guy. As soon as the physical therapist had given me all my instructions, she left too.
That made me kind of nervous, so I finished quickly and left.
Of course I had to go down 10 flights of stairs, probably totally negating all of the work I had just done on my knee.
Although this human urge we have to flee from danger is strong, it's actually better not to try to escape during an earthquake. It's best to stand in a doorway, or near a strong support, like a pillar. I've also heard that it's good to lie next to a large piece of stable furniture, like a bed, as long as you aren't in the way of something falling on you.
It's hard to think rationally, though, and I understand that if you're high up in a building you want to get out as soon as possible. However, it really surprised me how especially the old women wanted to leave while the building was still shaking.
Anyway, it was an exciting morning.
In other news, Chile now has a new president. Kind of ominous that half an hour before he took the oath there was the strongest aftershock yet...I wonder if that's a sign?
At 11:39 this morning, I found myself lying on a cot at the physical therapists, playing solitaire on my iPod, with tiny electric shocks pulsating into my knee. Then it started shaking. I thought I was imagining things. Then everyone started freaking out as it got stronger. So I hopped off my bed, knee still pulsating, and went to stand with a nurse by the column of the building. The quake passed, and I returned to my cot. Fifteen minutes later, the physical therapist put some 6 pound weights on my ankles so I could do my exercizes.
"Now you really can't escape!" She joked. I laughed nervously.
Literally five minutes later, it started shaking again. Faster than you can say boo, I ripped those ankle weights off my legs and headed for the column. All I wanted was to be out of those weights and able to move to safety.
And a few minutes after that, right after I had gotten the ankle weights on, it started shaking AGAIN. Seriously, earth. Stop moving NOW! I was thinking.
After the first quake, a few people had left, notably some older women who were really scared. After the second and third aftershocks, all the patients left except for me and one other guy. As soon as the physical therapist had given me all my instructions, she left too.
That made me kind of nervous, so I finished quickly and left.
Of course I had to go down 10 flights of stairs, probably totally negating all of the work I had just done on my knee.
Although this human urge we have to flee from danger is strong, it's actually better not to try to escape during an earthquake. It's best to stand in a doorway, or near a strong support, like a pillar. I've also heard that it's good to lie next to a large piece of stable furniture, like a bed, as long as you aren't in the way of something falling on you.
It's hard to think rationally, though, and I understand that if you're high up in a building you want to get out as soon as possible. However, it really surprised me how especially the old women wanted to leave while the building was still shaking.
Anyway, it was an exciting morning.
In other news, Chile now has a new president. Kind of ominous that half an hour before he took the oath there was the strongest aftershock yet...I wonder if that's a sign?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
One of those days
I'm just having one of those days when nothing goes right. I was five minutes early for my physical therapy appointment (go me!) but then had to wait ten minutes to buy my "bono" (like paying a co-pay) so I was five minutes late. I've been later before, and the physical therapist has never said anything to me. But today she decided to get on my case. She was like "this is five minutes less time your knee has to recuperate," which is total BS because I stay until I've finished all my exercises, then leave. The only thing she has to do is spend 5 minutes putting some kind of sonogram thing on my knee and then attach and take off the machine that gives it little electric pulses. Then I do everything by myself while she goes and drinks coffee. Literally. To make matters worse, she doesn't even know my name and alternates between calling me "Kate" (my middle name) or "La Gringa."
Then I came home to make lunch and realized I had no food so ended up eating bacon and eggs (literally the only thing in my fridge) and gave myself a stomach ache.
Then a friend I was supposed to get together with tonight called and canceled. Then a friend I was supposed to get together with this afternoon called and canceled.
Then I decided to take advantage of my free time to do my laundry, so I went down to get the key and the conserje wasn't there. I waited 10 minutes and he was nowhere to be seen. In that amount of time, so many people could have come into the building and robbed us. Usually I have no complaints about the conserjes in my building, but it seems kind of irresponsible for them to leave the desk for that long.
So now I'm feeling unmotivated and bored, not a great combination. There are many things I should be doing, but I would rather just take a nap.
That's all.
Then I came home to make lunch and realized I had no food so ended up eating bacon and eggs (literally the only thing in my fridge) and gave myself a stomach ache.
Then a friend I was supposed to get together with tonight called and canceled. Then a friend I was supposed to get together with this afternoon called and canceled.
Then I decided to take advantage of my free time to do my laundry, so I went down to get the key and the conserje wasn't there. I waited 10 minutes and he was nowhere to be seen. In that amount of time, so many people could have come into the building and robbed us. Usually I have no complaints about the conserjes in my building, but it seems kind of irresponsible for them to leave the desk for that long.
So now I'm feeling unmotivated and bored, not a great combination. There are many things I should be doing, but I would rather just take a nap.
That's all.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Hello, Goodbye
Please don't interpret this as a woe-is-me post. I'm just venting, and I do that best through writing.
My friends are slowly starting to leave, and I'm facing what Lydia recently wrote about. Ex-pats have the never-ending problem of getting close to gringo friends only to have them eventually decide to move home. I mean this isn't the case 100% of the time, but it is a common occurrence.
So Friday was the goodbye party for a friend who leaves on Monday. It was at Bar Esquina in Vitacura. If only I had a car, I'd go there more often. It had a great vibe, but man was it far away! Luckily I got a ride home with some friends because that would have been one expensive taxi ride.
Two other friends are leaving in May, and E., who is probably my closest gringa friend here, is leaving sometime this winter. R. and her boyfriend want to leave by the end of the year. I'm going to be left all alone, or forced to make new friends who will then inevitably leave.
Yes, I could make more Chilean friends. And in fact, I made a new Chilean friend Friday night at L's despedida (Hola C.! Mira...cumpliste la promesa!). But there is just something so comforting about being friends with other gringos who understand your situation. My friends get me. Plus it's hard for me to make friends with Chilean women, and there are just some things I can't talk about with my Chilean guy friends.
Or, I could go home too. The thought has crossed my mind multiple times. I don't really have a set plan for how long I'm going to stay here. But I feel like I'm not done with Chile. I like my life here and after the earthquake, I feel an even stronger connection to my adopted country. After my friends leave, however, my quality of life could and may well change. I guess I'll just have to wait and see how I feel. Although for someone who has always had her life very together and planned out, this "waiting and seeing" is a bit hard to take sometimes.
My friends are slowly starting to leave, and I'm facing what Lydia recently wrote about. Ex-pats have the never-ending problem of getting close to gringo friends only to have them eventually decide to move home. I mean this isn't the case 100% of the time, but it is a common occurrence.
So Friday was the goodbye party for a friend who leaves on Monday. It was at Bar Esquina in Vitacura. If only I had a car, I'd go there more often. It had a great vibe, but man was it far away! Luckily I got a ride home with some friends because that would have been one expensive taxi ride.
Two other friends are leaving in May, and E., who is probably my closest gringa friend here, is leaving sometime this winter. R. and her boyfriend want to leave by the end of the year. I'm going to be left all alone, or forced to make new friends who will then inevitably leave.
Yes, I could make more Chilean friends. And in fact, I made a new Chilean friend Friday night at L's despedida (Hola C.! Mira...cumpliste la promesa!). But there is just something so comforting about being friends with other gringos who understand your situation. My friends get me. Plus it's hard for me to make friends with Chilean women, and there are just some things I can't talk about with my Chilean guy friends.
Or, I could go home too. The thought has crossed my mind multiple times. I don't really have a set plan for how long I'm going to stay here. But I feel like I'm not done with Chile. I like my life here and after the earthquake, I feel an even stronger connection to my adopted country. After my friends leave, however, my quality of life could and may well change. I guess I'll just have to wait and see how I feel. Although for someone who has always had her life very together and planned out, this "waiting and seeing" is a bit hard to take sometimes.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Things I wish I had done/not done/packed for Torres del Paine
I promise this will be my last Torres del Paine post! I think it's one of the most important, though. These are some things that would have made my hike a bit better, but overall I can't really complain about my preparedness, despite the fact that this was my first time doing a through hike.
1. Hurt knee. Okay, so there wasn't much I could have done to avoid this, but I still wish it hadn't happened. On Day Three I was going down an incline and all of a sudden my knee started to hurt. Turns out my knee cap is out of place. My physical therapist (who I now get to see everyday for 10 days...ugh!) told me the only way I could have prevented this was go hiking more before going to Torres del Paine, but she admitted that this injury could very well have happened during that peparation as well. The injury made me go a lot slower, but luckily it wasn't so serious that I had to stop the hike. I would have been crushed if that were the case. My hiking partners were very understanding, but I still felt pretty guilty about slowing them down. Although it allowed for some much needed personal reflection as I was out of earshot for most conversations during the second half of the trip.
2. Walking sticks. At first we scawfed at the hikers who had brought fancy walking sticks. Then after our hike up to the Mirador Torres, and after barely crossing a few raging rivers, we wanted them. After I hurt my knee I luckily found a good natural walking stick, but they aren't as easy to find as one might think. I named her Kate Moss (she was covered in moss) and she was a great companion until she met her demise in a campfire at Refugio Grey (or she was just stolen, who knows).
3. Backpack cover for rain. Not sure if this has a technical name or not. I contemplated buying one at Jumbo for 4.000 pesos before leaving, but decided I didn't want to bring just one more thing. However, I think they're a good idea. I packed everything inside my backpack in plastic bags to protect them from getting wet, and then covered my backpack with a large trashbag on the outside, but if it had been torrentially downpouring, I'm sure my sleeping back would have gotten soaked because it didn't quite fit under the trash bag. Luckily, we only had some light rain.
4. Don't lose the can opener! We had brought cans of tuna, and I was in charge of bringing the can opener. I did, but then lost it after the first night at Refugio Chileno. I honestly have no idea where I put it. Although if you have a sharp enough knife, you can cut through tuna cans. It works better than the little can opener that comes with a Swiss Army knife.
1. Hurt knee. Okay, so there wasn't much I could have done to avoid this, but I still wish it hadn't happened. On Day Three I was going down an incline and all of a sudden my knee started to hurt. Turns out my knee cap is out of place. My physical therapist (who I now get to see everyday for 10 days...ugh!) told me the only way I could have prevented this was go hiking more before going to Torres del Paine, but she admitted that this injury could very well have happened during that peparation as well. The injury made me go a lot slower, but luckily it wasn't so serious that I had to stop the hike. I would have been crushed if that were the case. My hiking partners were very understanding, but I still felt pretty guilty about slowing them down. Although it allowed for some much needed personal reflection as I was out of earshot for most conversations during the second half of the trip.
2. Walking sticks. At first we scawfed at the hikers who had brought fancy walking sticks. Then after our hike up to the Mirador Torres, and after barely crossing a few raging rivers, we wanted them. After I hurt my knee I luckily found a good natural walking stick, but they aren't as easy to find as one might think. I named her Kate Moss (she was covered in moss) and she was a great companion until she met her demise in a campfire at Refugio Grey (or she was just stolen, who knows).
3. Backpack cover for rain. Not sure if this has a technical name or not. I contemplated buying one at Jumbo for 4.000 pesos before leaving, but decided I didn't want to bring just one more thing. However, I think they're a good idea. I packed everything inside my backpack in plastic bags to protect them from getting wet, and then covered my backpack with a large trashbag on the outside, but if it had been torrentially downpouring, I'm sure my sleeping back would have gotten soaked because it didn't quite fit under the trash bag. Luckily, we only had some light rain.
4. Don't lose the can opener! We had brought cans of tuna, and I was in charge of bringing the can opener. I did, but then lost it after the first night at Refugio Chileno. I honestly have no idea where I put it. Although if you have a sharp enough knife, you can cut through tuna cans. It works better than the little can opener that comes with a Swiss Army knife.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Torres del Paine in Pictures
I know the earthquake is on everyone's mind, but I personally need a bit of a distraction. Of course, after writing that sentence I checked emol.com, cnn.com (read this op-ed, it's great), Twitter and my e-mail to see of any news of the earthquake. And I felt an aftershock. There is literally no escaping it.
That being said, here are the promised pictures from Torres del Paine. I won't rehash our entire trip because that would go something like this "We woke up ridiculously early. We ate a Cliff Bar and put on our very heavy backpacks and headed out. We walked a few hours. Then we ate some tuna an pita bread overlooking the beautiful scenery. We took some pictures. We ate another Cliff bar. We wondered where the hell the refugio was. We finally arrived at the refugio. We paid way too much money to eat real food then went to be at approximately 8:30pm."
So without further ado, pictures.
That being said, here are the promised pictures from Torres del Paine. I won't rehash our entire trip because that would go something like this "We woke up ridiculously early. We ate a Cliff Bar and put on our very heavy backpacks and headed out. We walked a few hours. Then we ate some tuna an pita bread overlooking the beautiful scenery. We took some pictures. We ate another Cliff bar. We wondered where the hell the refugio was. We finally arrived at the refugio. We paid way too much money to eat real food then went to be at approximately 8:30pm."
So without further ado, pictures.
First view of the Torres from Hosteria Las Torres
Then, after a day of hiking, we got to see them up close. Showing my Chilean pride in front of the Torres.
It wasn't easy getting to this Mirador to see Las Torres (The Towers). It was about 2 hours of uphill with our backpacks, then 2 more hours without our backpacks, scrambling over rocks and loose gravel. Coming down was interesting too. However, the reward was totally worth it. We had such great weather and a perfect view. If it's cloudy or rainy, you can't see Las Torres. Thank you, weather gods!
Loved the colors in this picture. This is Day 2, looking out over Lago Nordenskjold on the way to Refugio Los Cuernos.
This is the start of Day 3, near the shores of Lake Nordenskjold on the way to Campamento Italiano.
Before reaching Campamento Italiano, I injured my knee. There was no way I could make it up the Valle Frances, so I continued on to Refugio Paine Grande by myself. This is one of the first views of the turquoise waters of Lago Pehoé.
A view of Los Cuernos (The Horns) from Refugio Paine Grande. Thankfully it cleared up enough so we could see the whole formation.
Day 4, on the way to Refugio Grey. Glacier Grey in the distance.
Fashion Emergency!! But I was warm and dry, so that's what matters most. Right? Glacier Grey and Lago Grey with icebergs in the background.
I have a bunch of other pictures, but I think these represent the major highlights. Of course, everything is 100 times more breathtaking in person.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The follow up post
First of all, please see Leigh's post about ways you can help the relief efforts.
I meant to write this post yesterday, but some things got in the way.
First of all, as you could tell from my last post, I underestimated the magnitude of the earthquake right after it happened. It took me a long time to realize what I had just lived through, and when it finally hit me, I kind of freaked out. It seems illogical, because I was fine, all of my friends and host family were fine, I hadn't even lost anything of material value. However, I think once the adrenaline wore off sometime around 7:00pm on Saturday, I started to panic. Every little aftershock that I felt (and there were over 100) made my heart race and my breathing get faster. I felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I tried to calm myself down by reading and watching non-news related TV online, but I couldn't focus. I kept clicking to El Mercurio and reading the minute by minute updates.
So I called my friend F. and sobbed into the phone for a little bit. Then I don't remember what I did but F. called back a few minutes later and said he would be over in a half an hour to pick me up. So I stayed at his house that night and all day yesterday. It was good to be around familiar faces to distract me from the temblores. At 8:30 yesterday morning there was another strong aftershock, but I was with F.'s sister and we rode it out together. She's also super nervous like me, so I'm glad it's just not a gringa thing.
Anyway, things are getting back to normal here in Providencia. A lot of people went to work today. Of course everyone is still talking about it and the news is still 24 hour earthquake coverage.
Unfortunately there has been lots of looting in the south, which is really unfortunate. People need food so I understand their desire to obtain that for themselves and their families. What I can't condone, though, is taking plasma TVs from Lider or going into people's houses to take things.
At this point, I'm ready for things to get back to normal. I just went through all my clothes and collected a big bag to donate. I would love to help in other ways too, but the Red Cross isn't accepting untrained volunteers yet. I'm not sure what my work schedule will be like in the next few weeks, but I doubt I'll be able to go down to the south to help out, although I would love to. Again, check out Leigh's well written and informative post about ways you can help.
In closing, I'd like to thank everyone for writing to me and/or calling my parents to make sure I was okay. My sister kept a list of people who called the house on Saturday and Sunday and my parents told me yesterday. I was amazed at how many people were worried about me! Thank you so much.
I meant to write this post yesterday, but some things got in the way.
First of all, as you could tell from my last post, I underestimated the magnitude of the earthquake right after it happened. It took me a long time to realize what I had just lived through, and when it finally hit me, I kind of freaked out. It seems illogical, because I was fine, all of my friends and host family were fine, I hadn't even lost anything of material value. However, I think once the adrenaline wore off sometime around 7:00pm on Saturday, I started to panic. Every little aftershock that I felt (and there were over 100) made my heart race and my breathing get faster. I felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I tried to calm myself down by reading and watching non-news related TV online, but I couldn't focus. I kept clicking to El Mercurio and reading the minute by minute updates.
So I called my friend F. and sobbed into the phone for a little bit. Then I don't remember what I did but F. called back a few minutes later and said he would be over in a half an hour to pick me up. So I stayed at his house that night and all day yesterday. It was good to be around familiar faces to distract me from the temblores. At 8:30 yesterday morning there was another strong aftershock, but I was with F.'s sister and we rode it out together. She's also super nervous like me, so I'm glad it's just not a gringa thing.
Anyway, things are getting back to normal here in Providencia. A lot of people went to work today. Of course everyone is still talking about it and the news is still 24 hour earthquake coverage.
Unfortunately there has been lots of looting in the south, which is really unfortunate. People need food so I understand their desire to obtain that for themselves and their families. What I can't condone, though, is taking plasma TVs from Lider or going into people's houses to take things.
At this point, I'm ready for things to get back to normal. I just went through all my clothes and collected a big bag to donate. I would love to help in other ways too, but the Red Cross isn't accepting untrained volunteers yet. I'm not sure what my work schedule will be like in the next few weeks, but I doubt I'll be able to go down to the south to help out, although I would love to. Again, check out Leigh's well written and informative post about ways you can help.
In closing, I'd like to thank everyone for writing to me and/or calling my parents to make sure I was okay. My sister kept a list of people who called the house on Saturday and Sunday and my parents told me yesterday. I was amazed at how many people were worried about me! Thank you so much.
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