In Chile, students don't call teachers by their names. They call them "Profe" which is an abbreviation of "profesor", or teacher. In their high school English classes, for some reason they call their female teachers "Miss" and their male teachers I actually have no idea. Maybe "Mister", that would be the logical choice. With my adult students I can usually convince them to call me by my first name instead of "Miss" or "Teacher." With my teenage students, though, it's impossible. One student told me that it was just too unnatural and disrespectful to call a teacher by their first name. So all my teenage students call me "Miss". In fact, they use it as a noun, as in "The Miss is so nice. She plays games with us all day."
So now for my BIG NEWS!!!
I am leaving the Institute. My new job has offered me full time employment, so as of next week, I'll be working there and only doing private English classes.
How do I feel? Well, today in the morning I felt so happy I could burst. I thought of the fact that I wouldn't have to worry about planning for up to five classes at a time. I'll probably arrive home before 9:00pm most nights. I won't have to fill out rollbooks only in pen and worry about making mistakes. I won't have to deal with grumpy students. I won't have to correct tests. I won't have to travel to throughout Santiago and to kingdom come on the smelly and hot metro. I won't have to worry that when I answer an unknown number, the secretary will be calling to ask me to sub at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.
However, on the other hand (there's always an on the other hand, right?), I am sad and nostalgic. I truly love teaching. I love meeting new people and learning about them. Every class is a bit different and has a different dynamic, and I like the unknown. I've been lucky that the majority of my classes have been great experiences. I get a thrill standing in front of the class and having everyone pay attention to me. I like having knowledge that other people don't and being able to share that with them. I enjoy inventing interesting activities and listening to students' discussions.
I think about one year nine months ago when I first started teaching at the Institute and how nervous I was. How I planned every class down to the minute and wrote it all out. How I was really strict with my kids' and teenagers' classes and was really disappointed when they didn't do the activities like the adults did (I have since learned!). How I spent hours searching Google for new activities and articles and podcasts. How I arrived at least five minutes early for every class. How I panicked if I hadn't fully prepared the class.
And now I think about now. I'm much more relaxed. I have an archive of activities, and I know what works well and what doesn't. I know which pages to skip in which books. I know which obscure vocabulary word to emphasize because it's on the test. If I don't plan a class, I can pretty much think of appropriate activities as I go. I can anticipate students' questions and mistakes. I play games and sing songs with teens and children, and have learned that competition always makes thing more interesting. I know which podcasts speak slow enough for students to understand, and which are impossible.
In other words, now that teaching is 100% easier for me, I'm leaving. And I'm having to learn all over again at my new job.
But that's pretty much what life is all about, right? If we always did the exact same thing, we'd all end up bitter and bored.
I'm going to be sad on the last day of class, when the students file out of the classroom saying "Bye, Miss." There won't be a "See you next class" and instead of "Have a good weekend" it will be more like "Have a good life." But I'm happy that I'll be able to continue teaching private classes, because yes, it's good money, but also because I won't have to 100% completely stop teaching. I enjoy it too much to do that.
Note: For anyone seeking information about teaching English in Chile, please don't think that you have to stop emailing me. I am still very willing to answer your questions, and if I don't know the answer, I can refer you to someone that does.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Random Observations about (Northern) Argentina
So yes. I did it. I left Chile on perhaps the most important date of the year. I got a lot of comments about this, that it was unpatriotic, that I was a "traitor", etc. But it didn't really bother me because I knew I was going to have an awesome time in Argentina, and that I did. My friend M. has been doing the Peace Corps in Paraguay for the past two years and we've been trying to plan a trip for awhile now. Her time in Paraguay is up in December, so we decided that it was going to be September or never. The province of Jujuy, Argentina is a relatively easy bus ride from Paraguay and I planned dates so that the plane ticket for me wasn't too overpriced due to the holiday.
I will recap our trip in a later post, but first I'd like to make some observations about Northern Argentina. I've never been to Buenos Aires (unless you count the 5 hours I spent sleeping in the airport there), so these observations are not about BBAA or any other part of Argentina, for that matter. And I was only there for six days so obviously I didn't have time to closely observe or analyze the culture.
Anyway, without further ado...
1. Siesta is observed. From 1:30 to 5:00pm most stores (with the exception of grocery stores) are closed. In Salta, which is a large city, the restaurants luckily stayed open, but we were eating lunch at the market in San Salvador de Jujuy and they closed and locked the gates right after we left at 1:35.
2. There is a SERIOUS lack of small change. Let me tell you, I thought Chile had a problem. It is WAY worse in N. Argentina. No matter where we were (grocery store, restaurant, pharmacy), if we tried to break a bill larger than a $20 the person sighed and rolled their eyes and asked us for smaller bills. One of M.'s friends, D., tried to break a large bill at a big pharmacy chain and they refused to sell him the item because they didn't have the change. Also, a lot of the bills are really old. They're ripped and taped together. Also, if they're missing the security strip, they won't be accepted. Some placed won't accept ripped bills either, which is obviously a problem, because a vast majority look like they come from Peron's time in office.
3. Now, on a more positive note, the people are really friendly. I had to remind myself to get rid of my Santiago gruffness and smile and say hi to people. People waved to us on the road, they were willing to answer our questions (some more accurately than others) and seemed really interested us, but not in a "look there's some tourists, let's take advantage of them!" way. This could be because we were the only tourists in one of the villages we stayed in and also because we were in rural areas for the most part. I think that no matter what country you're in, people from the campo are friendlier.
4. Cubierto fee. At almost every restaurant we went to, there was a cubierto fee, which is a fee they charge you for using their plates, basically. Or for sitting in their chairs. I don't really know, it kind of baffled me. In Salta, it was around $5 Argentine pesos per person, in the other smaller towns around $2.50. As far as I could tell, this didn't replace the tip.
5. Natural Gas Stations. Some cars in Argentina run on Natural Gas. We made the mistake of turning into one of these thinking it was a normal gas station (gas=nafta in Argentina) until we saw all of the cars' hoods up and the attendant looked at us funny and told us to go down two more blocks to the nafta station.
6. Traffic lights. The traffic lights turn yellow before they turn green (in addition to turning yellow before red). M., who did a lot of the driving, said this was useful when driving a standard because it gave you time to shift.
7. Completo isn't a completo. So the last night in Salta I was by myself and looking for something familiar to eat after I had eaten new things all week. I went to a restaurant and saw they had a sandwhich called lomito completo, which in Chile would be a steak sandwich with mayonnaise, sauerkraut, tomatoes and salsa americana (kind of like relish). I was about to order it, when I asked the waiter what completo meant, just in case. Completo, in Argentina, means with ham, cheese, egg, tomatoes and maybe something else that I'm forgetting.
8. The accent is hard to understand, but funny to imitate. Chileans love to imitate the Argentine accent. The ll, which in Chile is pronounced kind of like y in English, is pronounced kind of like a sh in Argentina. So take the word parrilla (which means a barbecue) is pronounced parr-EE-ya in Chile, but in Argentina it's parr-EE-sha. The y is also pronounced like this. I spoke the best Spanish in our group (most Peace Corps volunteers in Paraguay speak Guaraní, not Spanish), but I still had to ask a lot of people to repeat themselves and constantly remind myself about the different pronunciation. Also, to make things even MORE complicated, Argentinians use vos instead of tu and conjugate the verb differently. Instead of ¿tienes sencillo? (do you have small change?) they say ¿tenés sencillo? Luckily, they use this conjugation in El Salvador as well, and so I am kind of used to it.
For anyone who's spent time in Argentina, I'd love to hear your comments. Is it like this in the whole country? Am I way off my rocker? Let me know!
I will recap our trip in a later post, but first I'd like to make some observations about Northern Argentina. I've never been to Buenos Aires (unless you count the 5 hours I spent sleeping in the airport there), so these observations are not about BBAA or any other part of Argentina, for that matter. And I was only there for six days so obviously I didn't have time to closely observe or analyze the culture.
Anyway, without further ado...
1. Siesta is observed. From 1:30 to 5:00pm most stores (with the exception of grocery stores) are closed. In Salta, which is a large city, the restaurants luckily stayed open, but we were eating lunch at the market in San Salvador de Jujuy and they closed and locked the gates right after we left at 1:35.
2. There is a SERIOUS lack of small change. Let me tell you, I thought Chile had a problem. It is WAY worse in N. Argentina. No matter where we were (grocery store, restaurant, pharmacy), if we tried to break a bill larger than a $20 the person sighed and rolled their eyes and asked us for smaller bills. One of M.'s friends, D., tried to break a large bill at a big pharmacy chain and they refused to sell him the item because they didn't have the change. Also, a lot of the bills are really old. They're ripped and taped together. Also, if they're missing the security strip, they won't be accepted. Some placed won't accept ripped bills either, which is obviously a problem, because a vast majority look like they come from Peron's time in office.
3. Now, on a more positive note, the people are really friendly. I had to remind myself to get rid of my Santiago gruffness and smile and say hi to people. People waved to us on the road, they were willing to answer our questions (some more accurately than others) and seemed really interested us, but not in a "look there's some tourists, let's take advantage of them!" way. This could be because we were the only tourists in one of the villages we stayed in and also because we were in rural areas for the most part. I think that no matter what country you're in, people from the campo are friendlier.
4. Cubierto fee. At almost every restaurant we went to, there was a cubierto fee, which is a fee they charge you for using their plates, basically. Or for sitting in their chairs. I don't really know, it kind of baffled me. In Salta, it was around $5 Argentine pesos per person, in the other smaller towns around $2.50. As far as I could tell, this didn't replace the tip.
5. Natural Gas Stations. Some cars in Argentina run on Natural Gas. We made the mistake of turning into one of these thinking it was a normal gas station (gas=nafta in Argentina) until we saw all of the cars' hoods up and the attendant looked at us funny and told us to go down two more blocks to the nafta station.
6. Traffic lights. The traffic lights turn yellow before they turn green (in addition to turning yellow before red). M., who did a lot of the driving, said this was useful when driving a standard because it gave you time to shift.
7. Completo isn't a completo. So the last night in Salta I was by myself and looking for something familiar to eat after I had eaten new things all week. I went to a restaurant and saw they had a sandwhich called lomito completo, which in Chile would be a steak sandwich with mayonnaise, sauerkraut, tomatoes and salsa americana (kind of like relish). I was about to order it, when I asked the waiter what completo meant, just in case. Completo, in Argentina, means with ham, cheese, egg, tomatoes and maybe something else that I'm forgetting.
8. The accent is hard to understand, but funny to imitate. Chileans love to imitate the Argentine accent. The ll, which in Chile is pronounced kind of like y in English, is pronounced kind of like a sh in Argentina. So take the word parrilla (which means a barbecue) is pronounced parr-EE-ya in Chile, but in Argentina it's parr-EE-sha. The y is also pronounced like this. I spoke the best Spanish in our group (most Peace Corps volunteers in Paraguay speak Guaraní, not Spanish), but I still had to ask a lot of people to repeat themselves and constantly remind myself about the different pronunciation. Also, to make things even MORE complicated, Argentinians use vos instead of tu and conjugate the verb differently. Instead of ¿tienes sencillo? (do you have small change?) they say ¿tenés sencillo? Luckily, they use this conjugation in El Salvador as well, and so I am kind of used to it.
For anyone who's spent time in Argentina, I'd love to hear your comments. Is it like this in the whole country? Am I way off my rocker? Let me know!
Friday, September 24, 2010
So much to blog about, so little time
I am, indeed, alive, despite the evidence to the contrary given my recent blogging habits.
The next week and a half are going to be quite crazy for me for many reasons, so blogging will probably be light, but here's what you have (eventually) to look forward to:
The next week and a half are going to be quite crazy for me for many reasons, so blogging will probably be light, but here's what you have (eventually) to look forward to:
- Recap of my vacation to Northern Argentina, with more pictures like this one.
- Some observations about Argentina (yes, their accents really are as funny as Chileans make them out to be!)
- Big news!!!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Happy 18!!
I know it's only the 14th, but I'll be away from the Internet for about a week, so I just want to say:
Felices Fiestas Patrias!!!
Chile, I'm glad you exist. If not, I wouldn't have a home. Here's to 200 more years.
Full report on my vacations to follow.
Have a great week everyone!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Not Ghostbusters...
Who you gonna call??
...when you lock your keys inside your apartment on a Sunday afternoon?
Why, your ex-boyfriend's father, of course.
I'm actually surprised this hasn't happened before. I am notoriously scatter brained and I get distracted really easily. Luckily, I know this about myself so I keep my keys on a hook right by my door so they are the last thing I see (and grab) right before I leave. Also, there are no less than four people here in Santiago who have copies of my keys, just in case. Unfortunately, as I left to get the rest of my laundry out of the dryer this afternoon, I was a bit distracted thinking about my upcoming vacation to Argentina, and only grabbed the laundry room key and left my apartment keys dangling on the hook.
As soon as I shut the door I realized my mistake and let go a few choice expletives in Spanish and English, just for good measure. Then I realized that also left inside, less than a meter away from where I was standing in the hallway, but oh so out of reach, was my cell phone.
How was I supposed to call any of these four people without my cell phone?
I went down and asked my conserje (door man) to borrow the phone. Never mind that I couldn't remember my friends' cell phone numbers, the phone in the lobby can't make calls to cell phones (rates in Chile between landlines and cell phones is steep, so some phones don't even have the feature enabled). Luckily, from the far recesses of my memory, I remembered F.'s home phone number and luckily he is one of the four people with a copy of my keys.
So, I called F.'s house. No answer. I called again. No answer. I started to panic a bit and asked the conserje if he knew a locksmith. No, he didn't. God dammnit. Then I tried again. No answer. Tried again. FINALLY, F.'s dad answered. I explained the situation to him, he called F. and found my keys and because he is SUCH a great person, came and dropped them off.
Luckily, F. is much more than an ex-boyfriend. He's one of my very closest friends and his family is pretty awesome, and luckily they feel the same way about me as I do about them. Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do without them! They let me stay with them the night after the earthquake and all around have been very kind and helpful to me.
So, I think I've learned a few lessons today. One is, of course, to grab my keys when I leave my apartment. Duh. The second is to memorize some more phone numbers, namely those of the people who have my keys!
...when you lock your keys inside your apartment on a Sunday afternoon?
Why, your ex-boyfriend's father, of course.
I'm actually surprised this hasn't happened before. I am notoriously scatter brained and I get distracted really easily. Luckily, I know this about myself so I keep my keys on a hook right by my door so they are the last thing I see (and grab) right before I leave. Also, there are no less than four people here in Santiago who have copies of my keys, just in case. Unfortunately, as I left to get the rest of my laundry out of the dryer this afternoon, I was a bit distracted thinking about my upcoming vacation to Argentina, and only grabbed the laundry room key and left my apartment keys dangling on the hook.
As soon as I shut the door I realized my mistake and let go a few choice expletives in Spanish and English, just for good measure. Then I realized that also left inside, less than a meter away from where I was standing in the hallway, but oh so out of reach, was my cell phone.
How was I supposed to call any of these four people without my cell phone?
I went down and asked my conserje (door man) to borrow the phone. Never mind that I couldn't remember my friends' cell phone numbers, the phone in the lobby can't make calls to cell phones (rates in Chile between landlines and cell phones is steep, so some phones don't even have the feature enabled). Luckily, from the far recesses of my memory, I remembered F.'s home phone number and luckily he is one of the four people with a copy of my keys.
So, I called F.'s house. No answer. I called again. No answer. I started to panic a bit and asked the conserje if he knew a locksmith. No, he didn't. God dammnit. Then I tried again. No answer. Tried again. FINALLY, F.'s dad answered. I explained the situation to him, he called F. and found my keys and because he is SUCH a great person, came and dropped them off.
Luckily, F. is much more than an ex-boyfriend. He's one of my very closest friends and his family is pretty awesome, and luckily they feel the same way about me as I do about them. Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do without them! They let me stay with them the night after the earthquake and all around have been very kind and helpful to me.
So, I think I've learned a few lessons today. One is, of course, to grab my keys when I leave my apartment. Duh. The second is to memorize some more phone numbers, namely those of the people who have my keys!
Friday, September 10, 2010
New personal rule
I've had some pretty unfortunate customer service experiences this week, and I need to share. They weren't bad in so much that the service was horrible (well, it wasn't stellar, but average) but bad in the fact that it was SO INEFFICIENT.
First, I was at Correos Chile (the Post Office). I was coming back from a class and really looking forward to going home for an hour before heading out to my evening class. I had to mail something for my boss and I looked in to see that there was only one person waiting in line. Score! I thought and headed in. There were two people at the cash registers helping people. One woman was at a cash register that was closed, counting money. There was a man (maybe a manager?) running in and out of an office in the back. There was a security guard. So the man in front of me moved to the next available cash register. He had three envelopes to mail. I don't know why, but the guy processed each envelope individually, and each individual transaction took about five minutes. The other woman, who was supposedly open for service, was helping a man who was standing there (without mail) holding a 10.000 peso bill. The woman was on the phone and kept typing things into her computer. She looked very stressed. As I waited, more people entered. Soon, there were ten people waiting in line. Fifteen minutes had passed and the man in front of me being helped WAS STILL THERE. And to make matters worse, he tried to pay for the last transaction with a 20.000 peso bill and the cashier had no change, so he had to go look for some. I seriously wanted to pull my hair out. And what bothers me the most is that NO ONE COMPLAINS. The manager guy, who was running around doing God knows what, didn't assess the situation and say, hey! maybe the lady who is counting change should instead be ASSISTING CUSTOMERS. Nope. Nothing. Just silent waiting. When I finally got up to the counter my transaction took all of TWO SECONDS, so luckily I was out of there after only about twenty minutes (and remember: I was the second person in line!)
Next, I was at Unimarc today getting lunch from their salad bar. I took a number that was 6 away from the current number. Not so bad. Then, I realized there was only one person helping the salad bar people. There were three other women in the "Menu" line (which was empty) but they were just lounging around waiting for people to get into the "Menu" line, I guess. Then, to make matters worse, the woman with the number right in front of me hadn't decided what she wanted and proceeded to ask about the ingredients of every item in the salad bar.
I finally got my food and went to the checkout line. I don't know how, but I always pick the slowest line. I finally realized it was because an old lady was questioning EVERY single item that the cashier scanned. She called the manager over not once, not twice, but THREE times to ask about the price of lettuce, chorizos and margarine, respectively. Her problem was that she's not part of Club Unimarc and therefore wasn't receiving the discounted price and was complaining about that. Get with the program, lady. All the cool kids are in Club Unimarc. The only good thing about this experience was that the old man in front of me got PISSED and started yelling "Ya pues!" at the lady, so at least there was no resigned waiting in silence. I honestly wanted to hug that old man.
My last experience has to do with waiting and also just a down right rude person. I have to go to the photocopier at a certain facultad of the University of Chile to make photocopies quite frequently. There is one girl who works there who rivals Veronica Soto for the rudest chilena I've ever met. There are many examples, but I'll just stick with today's experience. I went to drop off quite a large order of photocopies at around 9:00 this morning. I was really happy when I walked in because rude girl wasn't there. I left them with a guy and told him I'd be back in a couple of hours to get them. I came back around 12:00 and the guy who I'd left them was wasn't there, but rude girl and another guy were. I asked for my photocopies. They looked at me like I had two heads.
"This morning I left some expense reports to be copied and now I'd like to pick them up." I explained.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" the rude girl said, "You didn't leave anything."
"Excuse me" I said, "But you weren't here when I dropped them off. I think I can remember my own actions. Besides, why would I lie about something like this?"
I mean, how ridiculous. Why would I LIE and say I dropped off something I hadn't? And to top it all off, when they actually looked for my photocopies (after I insisted they do so), they weren't ready. I had given them THREE HOURS. Sheesh.
So anyway, the point of all this is that I've made a new rule for myself. I will only submit myself to one potentially frustrating customer service experience per day. That means, that if at all possible, if I have to go to the photocopier, I won't also go to ServiPag or the post office or the Unimarc Salad bar or the Bank or Extranjeria later that same day. I think this will be good for my sanity, my mental health and my blood pressure.
First, I was at Correos Chile (the Post Office). I was coming back from a class and really looking forward to going home for an hour before heading out to my evening class. I had to mail something for my boss and I looked in to see that there was only one person waiting in line. Score! I thought and headed in. There were two people at the cash registers helping people. One woman was at a cash register that was closed, counting money. There was a man (maybe a manager?) running in and out of an office in the back. There was a security guard. So the man in front of me moved to the next available cash register. He had three envelopes to mail. I don't know why, but the guy processed each envelope individually, and each individual transaction took about five minutes. The other woman, who was supposedly open for service, was helping a man who was standing there (without mail) holding a 10.000 peso bill. The woman was on the phone and kept typing things into her computer. She looked very stressed. As I waited, more people entered. Soon, there were ten people waiting in line. Fifteen minutes had passed and the man in front of me being helped WAS STILL THERE. And to make matters worse, he tried to pay for the last transaction with a 20.000 peso bill and the cashier had no change, so he had to go look for some. I seriously wanted to pull my hair out. And what bothers me the most is that NO ONE COMPLAINS. The manager guy, who was running around doing God knows what, didn't assess the situation and say, hey! maybe the lady who is counting change should instead be ASSISTING CUSTOMERS. Nope. Nothing. Just silent waiting. When I finally got up to the counter my transaction took all of TWO SECONDS, so luckily I was out of there after only about twenty minutes (and remember: I was the second person in line!)
Next, I was at Unimarc today getting lunch from their salad bar. I took a number that was 6 away from the current number. Not so bad. Then, I realized there was only one person helping the salad bar people. There were three other women in the "Menu" line (which was empty) but they were just lounging around waiting for people to get into the "Menu" line, I guess. Then, to make matters worse, the woman with the number right in front of me hadn't decided what she wanted and proceeded to ask about the ingredients of every item in the salad bar.
I finally got my food and went to the checkout line. I don't know how, but I always pick the slowest line. I finally realized it was because an old lady was questioning EVERY single item that the cashier scanned. She called the manager over not once, not twice, but THREE times to ask about the price of lettuce, chorizos and margarine, respectively. Her problem was that she's not part of Club Unimarc and therefore wasn't receiving the discounted price and was complaining about that. Get with the program, lady. All the cool kids are in Club Unimarc. The only good thing about this experience was that the old man in front of me got PISSED and started yelling "Ya pues!" at the lady, so at least there was no resigned waiting in silence. I honestly wanted to hug that old man.
My last experience has to do with waiting and also just a down right rude person. I have to go to the photocopier at a certain facultad of the University of Chile to make photocopies quite frequently. There is one girl who works there who rivals Veronica Soto for the rudest chilena I've ever met. There are many examples, but I'll just stick with today's experience. I went to drop off quite a large order of photocopies at around 9:00 this morning. I was really happy when I walked in because rude girl wasn't there. I left them with a guy and told him I'd be back in a couple of hours to get them. I came back around 12:00 and the guy who I'd left them was wasn't there, but rude girl and another guy were. I asked for my photocopies. They looked at me like I had two heads.
"This morning I left some expense reports to be copied and now I'd like to pick them up." I explained.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" the rude girl said, "You didn't leave anything."
"Excuse me" I said, "But you weren't here when I dropped them off. I think I can remember my own actions. Besides, why would I lie about something like this?"
I mean, how ridiculous. Why would I LIE and say I dropped off something I hadn't? And to top it all off, when they actually looked for my photocopies (after I insisted they do so), they weren't ready. I had given them THREE HOURS. Sheesh.
So anyway, the point of all this is that I've made a new rule for myself. I will only submit myself to one potentially frustrating customer service experience per day. That means, that if at all possible, if I have to go to the photocopier, I won't also go to ServiPag or the post office or the Unimarc Salad bar or the Bank or Extranjeria later that same day. I think this will be good for my sanity, my mental health and my blood pressure.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Fashion Emergency
If you've spent any time in Santiago, it's not hard to observe that Santiaguinos tend to wear very somber colors: black, brown, gray, navy blue, tan, sometimes cream or off-white. If there is any color in the outfit, it's usually a small detail, maybe a scarf or a pattern on a sweater.
I, on the other hand, like to wear colors. Pink, red, bright blue, purple. Today in particular I wore an orange-ish dress. I stood out. The men were going crazy, making comments about my dress and how it showed off various parts of my body. Sometimes I wish they would decide whether I'm their hot daughter or hot mother (although I think both are disgusting and quite incestuous).
But anyway, my students didn't show up for their class, so after waiting for a half an hour, I left and walked one block to the metro. I swiped by Bip! card and was walking along the platform at the Los Heroes metro station, until I found a good spot where there wasn't a huge crowd waiting.
All of a sudden, a woman came rushing up to me. I didn't know what was about to happen, so I grabbed my backpack and hugged it close to me. She grabbed my skirt and pulled it down, saying "You've been going around with your skirt up in the back!" Then as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared, before I could say as much as thanks.
I suppose that in my rush to leave the empty classroom, my skirt got caught on my backpack or jacket. I imagine that I walked the block to the metro with it up too. President Piñera was giving a Bicentennial toast less than a block from where my class is, so I'm sure I gave the secret service officers a nice view as I walked away.
Oh well, as Margaret pointed out to me on twitter, at least I wasn't the only one having dress issues today.
I, on the other hand, like to wear colors. Pink, red, bright blue, purple. Today in particular I wore an orange-ish dress. I stood out. The men were going crazy, making comments about my dress and how it showed off various parts of my body. Sometimes I wish they would decide whether I'm their hot daughter or hot mother (although I think both are disgusting and quite incestuous).
But anyway, my students didn't show up for their class, so after waiting for a half an hour, I left and walked one block to the metro. I swiped by Bip! card and was walking along the platform at the Los Heroes metro station, until I found a good spot where there wasn't a huge crowd waiting.
All of a sudden, a woman came rushing up to me. I didn't know what was about to happen, so I grabbed my backpack and hugged it close to me. She grabbed my skirt and pulled it down, saying "You've been going around with your skirt up in the back!" Then as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared, before I could say as much as thanks.
I suppose that in my rush to leave the empty classroom, my skirt got caught on my backpack or jacket. I imagine that I walked the block to the metro with it up too. President Piñera was giving a Bicentennial toast less than a block from where my class is, so I'm sure I gave the secret service officers a nice view as I walked away.
Oh well, as Margaret pointed out to me on twitter, at least I wasn't the only one having dress issues today.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
You Too
My favorite band, hands down, is U2, followed closely by Coldplay. A lot of people probably judge me for this, saying they are too mainstream, commercial, blah blah blah. I'm over it. I think musical taste is a personal thing, and one shouldn't judge people based on music tastes. In fact, one of my least favorite questions to answer is "What kind of music do you like?" because yes, I can name U2 and Coldplay as my favorite bands, but after that, the truth is that I like a lot of different genres. My iTunes has everything from Rihanna to The Smiths to Ben Harper to ABBA to the Chicago Soundtrack to Guns N Roses to Julieta Venegas to Gym Class Heroes to Silvio Rodriguez. I guess I could say the types of music that don't particularly appeal to me are Heavy Metal, Electronic/Techno and Country. Except sometimes I like country, it depends on my mood.
So anyway, the point is that I'm super excited because U2 is supposedly coming to Chile in March with their 360 tour and I REALLY want to see them because I've never seen them live. I obsessively check their website to see if they've posted a fixed date and/or ticket information almost every day. So far, nothing.
I really hope they come. If not, I guess I'll have to make a trip home and go see them in Montreal in July.
This is my favorite song from their newest album, No Line on the Horizon. The song is called I'll Go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight. I really like the video, too.
So anyway, the point is that I'm super excited because U2 is supposedly coming to Chile in March with their 360 tour and I REALLY want to see them because I've never seen them live. I obsessively check their website to see if they've posted a fixed date and/or ticket information almost every day. So far, nothing.
I really hope they come. If not, I guess I'll have to make a trip home and go see them in Montreal in July.
This is my favorite song from their newest album, No Line on the Horizon. The song is called I'll Go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight. I really like the video, too.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Sleep Anxiety
The past few nights have been rough. I have a cold, which makes sleeping difficult. I hate breathing through my mouth because then I cough and/or get dry mouth, and I physically can not breath through my nose. It's a problem.
In addition, on Monday night I took some fanschy-schmancy cough syrup prescribed to me by the Doc. He pitched it to me like some sort of miracle drug (makes me wonder now if he's getting a kick back from the drug company...). So I took it right before bed because he told me it would knock me out and give me a good night sleep. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Meanwhile, my thoughts were racing. I wrote a few blog posts in my head (including the bagel one). I made to-do lists. I thought of chapters of my life story (which someday I will write). I couldn't shut my mind off. Thinking that maybe a half an hour had gone by since I shut off the light, I checked my watch. I had been unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep for TWO HOURS.
The whole night was like that. I didn't sleep AT ALL. Turns out the cough syrup (called Flemex, por si aca) has codeine in it. Apparently, Abby and codeine don't mix.
The next day I got up at 6:30 because I wasn't sleeping anyway. I thought I would crash at some point during the day, but I didn't feel tired until around 8:00pm. I wanted to be super tired before falling asleep, though, so I waited until around 10:00pm to fall asleep. And I took a NyQuil which always knocks me out.
I slept a little that night, but it wasn't a deep, good sleep. I woke up twice to go to the bathroom, and had a strange dream where I thought there was a plastic bag in my bed so in the middle of the night I stripped my blankets off in search of it...
Yesterday I was TIRED. All day long. And my cold, instead of getting better, was getting worse. Despite drinking tons of Emergen-C, taking propóleo and drinking approximately twice my weight in water, I could literally feel my sinuses getting more and more congested.
I took a nap yesterday afternoon, which meant that last night? Yeah, you're right. Bad night's sleep again. Although this time I know it was partially because I had sleep anxiety. After two nights of bad sleep, my inner monologue went something like this: Abby you have to sleep. Go to sleep now and you'll get 8.5 hours of sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep is amazing. Okay, go to sleep now and you'll get 8 hours. 8 hours is good. Well, now 7.5 that's not so bad. Now it's only 7! GO TO SLEEP NOW ABBY!!!
I eventually did fall asleep, only to be rudely awaken a few hours later by an EXTREMELY dry mouth (thank you, congested nasal passages). Then, to fall back asleep I basically repeated the above monologue, except with much lower numbers.
Needless to say, today, my first day back from my licencia médica, was rough. I was crabby. I wasn't super productive at work and I was short with my teenage students (two of which were new today...oops! sorry guys). In my adult class, a student offered me some peanuts and I was like "NO I HATE PEANUTS" (that's not even true) but it's just what came out of my sleep-deprived brain.
I need to sleep tonight. But I'm fighting to stay awake a little longer so I'm good and tired by the time I hit the sheets.
In addition, on Monday night I took some fanschy-schmancy cough syrup prescribed to me by the Doc. He pitched it to me like some sort of miracle drug (makes me wonder now if he's getting a kick back from the drug company...). So I took it right before bed because he told me it would knock me out and give me a good night sleep. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Meanwhile, my thoughts were racing. I wrote a few blog posts in my head (including the bagel one). I made to-do lists. I thought of chapters of my life story (which someday I will write). I couldn't shut my mind off. Thinking that maybe a half an hour had gone by since I shut off the light, I checked my watch. I had been unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep for TWO HOURS.
The whole night was like that. I didn't sleep AT ALL. Turns out the cough syrup (called Flemex, por si aca) has codeine in it. Apparently, Abby and codeine don't mix.
The next day I got up at 6:30 because I wasn't sleeping anyway. I thought I would crash at some point during the day, but I didn't feel tired until around 8:00pm. I wanted to be super tired before falling asleep, though, so I waited until around 10:00pm to fall asleep. And I took a NyQuil which always knocks me out.
I slept a little that night, but it wasn't a deep, good sleep. I woke up twice to go to the bathroom, and had a strange dream where I thought there was a plastic bag in my bed so in the middle of the night I stripped my blankets off in search of it...
Yesterday I was TIRED. All day long. And my cold, instead of getting better, was getting worse. Despite drinking tons of Emergen-C, taking propóleo and drinking approximately twice my weight in water, I could literally feel my sinuses getting more and more congested.
I took a nap yesterday afternoon, which meant that last night? Yeah, you're right. Bad night's sleep again. Although this time I know it was partially because I had sleep anxiety. After two nights of bad sleep, my inner monologue went something like this: Abby you have to sleep. Go to sleep now and you'll get 8.5 hours of sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep is amazing. Okay, go to sleep now and you'll get 8 hours. 8 hours is good. Well, now 7.5 that's not so bad. Now it's only 7! GO TO SLEEP NOW ABBY!!!
I eventually did fall asleep, only to be rudely awaken a few hours later by an EXTREMELY dry mouth (thank you, congested nasal passages). Then, to fall back asleep I basically repeated the above monologue, except with much lower numbers.
Needless to say, today, my first day back from my licencia médica, was rough. I was crabby. I wasn't super productive at work and I was short with my teenage students (two of which were new today...oops! sorry guys). In my adult class, a student offered me some peanuts and I was like "NO I HATE PEANUTS" (that's not even true) but it's just what came out of my sleep-deprived brain.
I need to sleep tonight. But I'm fighting to stay awake a little longer so I'm good and tired by the time I hit the sheets.
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