Ever since I was a baby, I have gone to the same church with my family. It belongs to the denomination The United Church of Christ (UCC), which besides the Unitarian Universalist Church, may be one of the most liberal branches of Protestantism. Our services aren't as formal as a traditional Catholic mass, but they aren't the "Praise Jesus!" types of services you may see at a Southern Baptist or Evangelical church. In my mind, it's a happy medium between the two.
So, last week, the guy I'm dating (I'll call him Jack*) invited me to his church. I accepted, because I could tell it was important to him, but I honestly didn't know what to expect. However, I'm no stranger to different types of church services, or services in Spanish. In El Salvador, I lived with a very Catholic family who practiced Liberation Theology, and went to mass with them every week (sometimes more than once). I also participated in Lutheran services in El Salvador, and I've been to an all-black Baptist church in Georgia.
I went with an open mind, and I was blown away.
The church service in itself was very different than anything I've ever experienced. There was lots of singing (including a full band to accompany: two guitars, bass, drums and auxiliary percussion), lots of praying out loud (I'm used to silent prayers), lots of "Amen"-ing, and in general, a lot of joy.
The best part was, though, by far, the people. Jack's church is in the población La Legua in San Joaquin. As we were driving in, he asked me if I had ever been to a población before. I said I hadn't. He said, "Well, the people are different." I asked what he meant by that. "They're warmer. They will come up to you and ask you how you are, they'll hug you, they'll welcome you."
It was all true. Practically everyone in the congregation gave me a big hug (I'm talking a bear hug here, not a polite squeeze), welcomed me, blessed me and in general were so warm and friendly. I left the church with a huge grin on my face, infected by the positive attitudes of those around me.
I took a huge, giant leap out of my comfort zone tonight, and it was one of the most rewarding experiences I've had so far in Chile. I know I'll go back to the church. Maybe I don't agree with every aspect of their theology, maybe I'm not comfortable shouting "Amen!" and praying out loud, but I know the members of the congregation are special. And for that, I'll be back. Amen.
*Jack is Chilean. I have had the luck (?) of dating three guys here in Chile whose names all begin with the same letter, so to avoid confusion, this will be his pseudonym. I know, you're thinking, at least pick a Spanish name! But, Jack invented it himself. We were talking the other day about how I like to write and how one day I want to write the story of my life. He said, "Well, you can't use my real name. You should call me Jack." So, Jack he shall be.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Random sources of Inspiration
Around 9:30 at night most of you are probably winding down for the evening, maybe watching some TV or if you're in Chile, eating once or dinner. If you're my parents you're probably in bed.
Most nights, that is me too. However, sometimes I get these rushes of energy around this time and just have to do something. Usually, I bake. I've got banana bread, brownies, cookies, zucchini bread, lemon bread and various other desserts down pat. But two nights ago I felt like doing something different.
My inspiration came from two sources. This past week (in three one-hour installments) I watched The Fiddler on the Roof, which along with The Sound of Music vies for the honor of being My Favorite Movie of All Time. If you've never seen it, stop what you're doing right now and watch it. It's an amazing film, and I promise you that the music will get stuck in your head for weeks. But that's okay, because the songs are awesome. One of my favorite songs (and scenes) from the movie is the first one, called Tradition. Here's a peek:
Not that I'm advocating the traditional gender roles depicted in the song. Not at all. But the scene that inspired me was at around 2:17, when the mamas are kneading bread. I realized that I haven't kneaded bread in so long, since I was maybe 10 years old and helping my mom make dough for our Christmas sticky buns (before we started making pre-made dough!). There's something so calming about kneading bread dough.
A few days later I was watching something completely different. And that was Dexter, yes, the show about the "good" serial killer who only kills criminals. There was a scene in the police station and behind two of the characters was an entire tray CHOCK FULL OF BAGELS. There was every type available, and my only thought was, why aren't those two characters HOUSING those bagels behind them? (Tried to find the clip on YouTube, but no luck!)
So, I decided to make bagels. I got the recipe here. I halved it because I didn't have enough flour. This was the final result:
Ok, so they aren't the prettiest bagels ever, but they were delicious. They got a little hard on day two, so I had to hurry up and eat them (that was the only solution, obviously). Next time I want to try cinnamon raisin or onion or something exciting. They were actually way easier to make than I had imagined. So for all of you here in Chile that are really missing bagels, try making them. You won't be disappointed!
Most nights, that is me too. However, sometimes I get these rushes of energy around this time and just have to do something. Usually, I bake. I've got banana bread, brownies, cookies, zucchini bread, lemon bread and various other desserts down pat. But two nights ago I felt like doing something different.
My inspiration came from two sources. This past week (in three one-hour installments) I watched The Fiddler on the Roof, which along with The Sound of Music vies for the honor of being My Favorite Movie of All Time. If you've never seen it, stop what you're doing right now and watch it. It's an amazing film, and I promise you that the music will get stuck in your head for weeks. But that's okay, because the songs are awesome. One of my favorite songs (and scenes) from the movie is the first one, called Tradition. Here's a peek:
Not that I'm advocating the traditional gender roles depicted in the song. Not at all. But the scene that inspired me was at around 2:17, when the mamas are kneading bread. I realized that I haven't kneaded bread in so long, since I was maybe 10 years old and helping my mom make dough for our Christmas sticky buns (before we started making pre-made dough!). There's something so calming about kneading bread dough.
A few days later I was watching something completely different. And that was Dexter, yes, the show about the "good" serial killer who only kills criminals. There was a scene in the police station and behind two of the characters was an entire tray CHOCK FULL OF BAGELS. There was every type available, and my only thought was, why aren't those two characters HOUSING those bagels behind them? (Tried to find the clip on YouTube, but no luck!)
So, I decided to make bagels. I got the recipe here. I halved it because I didn't have enough flour. This was the final result:
Ok, so they aren't the prettiest bagels ever, but they were delicious. They got a little hard on day two, so I had to hurry up and eat them (that was the only solution, obviously). Next time I want to try cinnamon raisin or onion or something exciting. They were actually way easier to make than I had imagined. So for all of you here in Chile that are really missing bagels, try making them. You won't be disappointed!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Abigail
As you could probably guess, my full first name is Abigail. Almost everyone I know calls me Abby, but here in Chile that causes some minor inconveniences. For some reason, "Abby" sounds like "Javi" which is a nickname for "Javiera", and on more than one occasion people have become confused and thought my name was, indeed, Javiera. Also, I almost always have to spell Abby, and Chileans tend to have problems with double letters.
So, most of the time, I go by Abigail here. Plus, it's my full name, and Chileans are formal enough that when introducing yourself you should use your full name even if everybody usually calls you something else. Here, Abigail is pronounced "Ah-bee-guy-EEL", and most people know how to spell it already, only sometimes confusing the "B" with a "V" (they sound the same in Spanish).
There is one reason why people know my name here: a soap opera.
Back in the 1980s, there was a soap opera (or teleserie) from Venezuela called, you got it, Abigail, starring Catherine Fulop (if you'd like to see some woman-flesh, I suggest doing a Google Images search for her...ahem!). EVERYONE in Chile who was old enough to watch TV in the 80s knows this soap opera. Inevitably, when I tell people my name, they tell me about the teleserie.
Yesterday, I was in a taxi with a very friendly driver. Normally I don't like talking to taxi drivers because they always ask the same questions and it gets tiring. But this guy was so happy and positive that his good energy rubbed right off on me and we had a good time talking about anything and everything. At the end of the ride, he asked me my name.
"Ahhh, Abigail. A Venezuelan name," he said.
I laughed and replied, "No, it's actually Hebrew, but you're right, there was a Venezuelan teleserie called that."
"And are you like the Abigail from the show?" He asked.
"I doubt it, but to tell you the truth, I've never watched it. I don't even know what it's about!" I confessed.
Thank God for YouTube, you can find almost anything.
My conclusion? I'm pretty much nothing like Abigail, who is a high school girl in love with her literature professor. She's pretty sassy, spoiled, and a huge flirt.
The above video is in Spanish, but if you'd like to laugh at some 80s fashion and sound effects, I invite you to take a look, but rewind to about 1:18 because the opening credits are long!
So, most of the time, I go by Abigail here. Plus, it's my full name, and Chileans are formal enough that when introducing yourself you should use your full name even if everybody usually calls you something else. Here, Abigail is pronounced "Ah-bee-guy-EEL", and most people know how to spell it already, only sometimes confusing the "B" with a "V" (they sound the same in Spanish).
There is one reason why people know my name here: a soap opera.
Back in the 1980s, there was a soap opera (or teleserie) from Venezuela called, you got it, Abigail, starring Catherine Fulop (if you'd like to see some woman-flesh, I suggest doing a Google Images search for her...ahem!). EVERYONE in Chile who was old enough to watch TV in the 80s knows this soap opera. Inevitably, when I tell people my name, they tell me about the teleserie.
Yesterday, I was in a taxi with a very friendly driver. Normally I don't like talking to taxi drivers because they always ask the same questions and it gets tiring. But this guy was so happy and positive that his good energy rubbed right off on me and we had a good time talking about anything and everything. At the end of the ride, he asked me my name.
"Ahhh, Abigail. A Venezuelan name," he said.
I laughed and replied, "No, it's actually Hebrew, but you're right, there was a Venezuelan teleserie called that."
"And are you like the Abigail from the show?" He asked.
"I doubt it, but to tell you the truth, I've never watched it. I don't even know what it's about!" I confessed.
Thank God for YouTube, you can find almost anything.
My conclusion? I'm pretty much nothing like Abigail, who is a high school girl in love with her literature professor. She's pretty sassy, spoiled, and a huge flirt.
The above video is in Spanish, but if you'd like to laugh at some 80s fashion and sound effects, I invite you to take a look, but rewind to about 1:18 because the opening credits are long!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Miners Rescued
Unless you've been living under a rock you have probably heard about the Chilean Miners who were trapped in the San José Mine for 17 days before they were "found" by drilling a tiny bore hole into their refuge 2300 feet underground. Finally, 69 days later, they are being bulled out from the bowels of the earth, one by one, through a tube no more than 2 feet wide, in a capsule called The Phoenix (or El Fénix, if you're speaking Spanish). You can go to almost any International News site (that link is to CNN) and see coverage of the rescue.
It was really emotional to see the first miner rescued last night. I was on the verge of falling asleep around 11:00pm and considered hitting the hay, but I'm so glad I forced myself to stay awake until 12:10am, when the first miner came out. I can't even describe the sensation of seeing the capsule come out of the ground and then soon after, the first miner, Florencio Avalos, step out and hug his wife and son. Apparently the second miner was a bit more entertaining (he brought rocks up from the mine as gifts!), but by that point I was fast asleep.
As I write this, the 14th miner has just been rescued. It looks like the rescue effort might take less time than anticipated.
I'm so amazed at the combination of technology and cooperation that facilitated the miners' rescue. And I'm so grateful for the authorities working on this project, that they didn't lose faith and these 33 men are (or soon will be) reunited with their families. And not to forget the miners themselves, who through a strict regimen were able to maintain their physical and mental health for SIXTY NINE days underground. I know that I couldn't have done it.
The miners still have a long road ahead. My thoughts are with them as they begin to recover and are bombarded by the press. Also, I hope that among the fanfare and joy we don't forget the reason why this happened in the first place. Along with being heroes, the miners are also victims of dangerous working conditions. Hopefully the authorities have learned from this and will improve regulations for smaller mining operations.
But for now, Viva Chile! and Vivan los mineros!
It was really emotional to see the first miner rescued last night. I was on the verge of falling asleep around 11:00pm and considered hitting the hay, but I'm so glad I forced myself to stay awake until 12:10am, when the first miner came out. I can't even describe the sensation of seeing the capsule come out of the ground and then soon after, the first miner, Florencio Avalos, step out and hug his wife and son. Apparently the second miner was a bit more entertaining (he brought rocks up from the mine as gifts!), but by that point I was fast asleep.
As I write this, the 14th miner has just been rescued. It looks like the rescue effort might take less time than anticipated.
I'm so amazed at the combination of technology and cooperation that facilitated the miners' rescue. And I'm so grateful for the authorities working on this project, that they didn't lose faith and these 33 men are (or soon will be) reunited with their families. And not to forget the miners themselves, who through a strict regimen were able to maintain their physical and mental health for SIXTY NINE days underground. I know that I couldn't have done it.
The miners still have a long road ahead. My thoughts are with them as they begin to recover and are bombarded by the press. Also, I hope that among the fanfare and joy we don't forget the reason why this happened in the first place. Along with being heroes, the miners are also victims of dangerous working conditions. Hopefully the authorities have learned from this and will improve regulations for smaller mining operations.
But for now, Viva Chile! and Vivan los mineros!
Friday, October 8, 2010
10 most important things
The other day after class, one of my students asked me to help him with an art project. I looked at him strangly, because based on my white-board illustrations, he obviously knew that I was no artist. He quickly explained that the only thing I had to do was write down the 10 most important things in my life, without taking too much time to think.
This was my list:
1. Family
2. Friends
3. Happiness
4. Love
5. Books
6. Learning
7. My cat (Charlie)
8. Travel
9. Adventure
10....
I couldn't think of a tenth. He told me it was okay, that I could put just nine.
When I got home I started doing my normal nightly activities, making something to eat and tidying up around the apartment. I am ALWAYS humming some sort of song, and turns out that night it was the song "The Sound of Music" from the musical by the same name. It's my favorite movie of all time and I had just watched it the day before.
Then it hit me: MUSIC was my 10th thing.
What are your 10 things? Try not to think about it too much, but just write what first comes to your mind.
This was my list:
1. Family
2. Friends
3. Happiness
4. Love
5. Books
6. Learning
7. My cat (Charlie)
8. Travel
9. Adventure
10....
I couldn't think of a tenth. He told me it was okay, that I could put just nine.
When I got home I started doing my normal nightly activities, making something to eat and tidying up around the apartment. I am ALWAYS humming some sort of song, and turns out that night it was the song "The Sound of Music" from the musical by the same name. It's my favorite movie of all time and I had just watched it the day before.
Then it hit me: MUSIC was my 10th thing.
What are your 10 things? Try not to think about it too much, but just write what first comes to your mind.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Life is good
Tonight I came home at 5:30. And I didn't have to leave the house again. AMAZING. I am obviously going to miss my students, but having free time at night is something that I've never had since living in Chile. Today I was able to take a short nap, clean the bathroom, wash my mountain of dishes and take out the trash! Then I made a delicious dinner (something more than toast with avocado!) and talked with my parents. These are all usually activities that are reserved for Saturdays or Sundays only, so to be able to do them on a weekday is pretty cool for me.
In other great news, I just booked a ticket home for Christmas. I arrive Christmas Eve Day and leave on January 7th, so I'll be there for two weeks. At this point I don't know exactly where "home" will be because my parents sold our house and are currently living in a rental, which they hope to leave at the beginning of November, but my entire family lives in Vermont, so I know I won't have to worry about having a place to stay.
I originally was going to spend Christmas in Chile, so being able to go home is doubly exciting for me! Thanks, new job!
In other great news, I just booked a ticket home for Christmas. I arrive Christmas Eve Day and leave on January 7th, so I'll be there for two weeks. At this point I don't know exactly where "home" will be because my parents sold our house and are currently living in a rental, which they hope to leave at the beginning of November, but my entire family lives in Vermont, so I know I won't have to worry about having a place to stay.
I originally was going to spend Christmas in Chile, so being able to go home is doubly exciting for me! Thanks, new job!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Adventures in Northern Argentina
My trip to Northern Argentina was unlike any trip I've ever taken. Why? In the past, I've always taken public transportation, namely buses. However, for this trip, we rented a car and it made all the difference. We didn't do much on our trip, but we saw a lot of things, namely because we weren't limited by going where inter-city buses go. Granted our car (pictured below) wasn't an SUV, so we did have some problems on some terrain, but we were still able to see a lot of amazing things. I'm going to recap the trip day by day through the photos that I took. And yes, we fit five people and five hiking backpacks into that car. Amazing, right?
Our trusty VW Gol
Day One
We finally reached our destination, Pumamarca, in the late afternoon. After parking our car and finding a hostel, we went for a short walk around the back part of the village.
We saw many views like this. Pumamarca is the home of the Seven-Colored Rock. I didn't get a really great picture of that particular rock, but as you can see, the rocks are pretty, even if these are only tri-colored.
I really love cemeteries, so I couldn't resist getting a few shots of this one.
I've never been to Salar de Uyuni (in Bolivia) but have seen pictures, and although these salt flats were cool to see, they didn't really compare with the pictures I had seen of Uyuni. It was worth the drive, though, because the scenery was beautiful and we saw guanacos, which are a small camelid, related to the llama and alpaca, but who live in the wild.
This was the road we went up and down on the way to Salinas Grandes. Impressive, right?
After the salt flats, we headed north to Humahuaca. This is a statue in the town paying tribute to the heroes of Argentina's Independence. I'm kind of confused as to why it features the indigenous population. I guess I need to brush up on my Argentine history.
These are my friend M's fellow Peace Corps volunteers, taking in the scenery of Humahuaca.
The scenery of Humahuaca was gorgeous.
That afternoon, after eating lunch, we headed out in search of some ruins that the lady at the tourist office had told us existed. We drove on dirt roads past Humahuaca for about 10 km in search of these ruins. The only thing we found was a small village (which the boys named Rock Village) with some goat herders. Then we headed a bit north (on the main highway, which was paved, thank God!) in search of some other ruins, but the only thing we found were cacti.
Day Three
That's right, 45 km of dirt switchbacks. We almost died at least once when a motorcycle came racing around a corner and we had to slam on the breaks not to hit them. After that, I spent the rest of the ride with my eyes closed and trying not to look out the window. I probably made everyone really nervous because I kept telling my friend (who was driving) to honk before she went around the corners.
But, the treacherous drive was worth it as we arrived to San Francisco, a village of 50 families on top of a mountain. We stayed at Hostal Esquinas, whose owner, Italo, was a very helpful and kind man who taught us about the history of the village and surrounding area. There are two villages "near" San Francisco which can only be accessed by foot or on horseback. These villages are over 500 years old, and the indigenous that live there still maintain their traditional way of life. He also mentioned that there was a village of "gringos" which had me imagining a settlement of American and British people, but when I asked for clarification, he explained that he meant people of Spanish origin.
We went to the almacén and bought some vegetables and eggs and went back to the hostel and made dinner, because there are no restaurants in San Francisco.
We finally reached the river, but couldn't find the hot springs. N. and J., two of the boys, headed out to explore to see if they could find them, leaving me, my friend and D. behind. We waited for them for awhile, but then got nervous, so went off looking for them. They had since discovered a different path down to the hot springs. So the three of us headed down. Except "path" is not exactly the word I would use to describe what we were going down, more like a cliff. I am afriad of heights so I had a small panic attack that caused us to reevaluate the situation. D. went on ahead and then decided that the trail was too steep for him, so the three of us headed back up. The worst part was that I could see the beautiful hot springs from the side of the cliff, but I was so scared and freaking out that I couldn't make it down. Bummer.
Then we headed back up the trail, and it was HARD. By this time, it was around noon so the sun was beating down and the trail was ALL uphill. We had forgotten to fill up our water bottles in the river, so we didn't have much water, which made me kind of panicky. But anyway, we made it back up and then drove back down the 45km of dirt switchbacks and all the way back to Salta, arriving there around 7:00pm. That night, we went to a parrillada (Argentine steakhouse) and I had the most delicious bife chorizo (sirloin strip steak) I've ever had in my life (no picture, I ate it too fast). Then we went and had some beers in the plaza and I took this picture of the cathedral all lit up.
Day Five
After the museum, we went and ate some traditional empanadas salteñas (which are small, yet delicious) and then went up Salta's gondola (similar to Santiago's teleferico). I should mention that throughout the trip, we always drank terere, which is a Paraguayan drink. It is basically ice cold yerba mate. It sounds disgusting, but it is delicious and refreshing, especially with mint leaves in the water. In this picture, J. is holding the terere cup.
At the top of the gondola was a beautiful park with a water fall. I have to say, the park in Salta might be nicer than San Cristobal in Santiago.
At the end of the day, my friends and traveling companions left to go back to Paraguay. I stayed another day, but didn't take any pictures. I mostly spent it buying souvenirs and books and reading said books in the various plazas throughout Salta. That night my flight left for Buenos Aires, and then after five hours of trying to sleep in Aeroparque again, my flight to Santiago left and I arrived home.
Our trusty VW GolDay One
I arrived to the Salta Airport in the morning, and my friend and her three Peace Corps friends picked me up from the airport. They had been in the area for two days already and were just returning from Cafayate, which is an up and coming wine producing area, known for the white wine Torrontés. As soon as I got in the car, we headed north to the Provincia de Jujuy (pronounced hoo-hooey). I had gotten very little sleep the night before (spent in the Aeroparque in Buenos Aires) so I tried to sleep, but due to the curvy road through a weird looking forest (no pictures, sorry) it was quite difficult. We stopped for lunch in San Salvador de Jujuy, which was really not worth exploring, so we quickly moved on. The landscape north of San Salvador looked like this:
We finally reached our destination, Pumamarca, in the late afternoon. After parking our car and finding a hostel, we went for a short walk around the back part of the village.
We saw many views like this. Pumamarca is the home of the Seven-Colored Rock. I didn't get a really great picture of that particular rock, but as you can see, the rocks are pretty, even if these are only tri-colored.
I really love cemeteries, so I couldn't resist getting a few shots of this one.
Day Two
The next morning we woke up fairly early and headed out to Salinas Grandes, which is a salt flat about 40km from Pumamarca on the road to Chile. This was the view heading down into the salt flats. (The white upside down triangle in the distance are the salt flats).
I've never been to Salar de Uyuni (in Bolivia) but have seen pictures, and although these salt flats were cool to see, they didn't really compare with the pictures I had seen of Uyuni. It was worth the drive, though, because the scenery was beautiful and we saw guanacos, which are a small camelid, related to the llama and alpaca, but who live in the wild.
This was the road we went up and down on the way to Salinas Grandes. Impressive, right?
After the salt flats, we headed north to Humahuaca. This is a statue in the town paying tribute to the heroes of Argentina's Independence. I'm kind of confused as to why it features the indigenous population. I guess I need to brush up on my Argentine history.
These are my friend M's fellow Peace Corps volunteers, taking in the scenery of Humahuaca.
The scenery of Humahuaca was gorgeous.
That afternoon, after eating lunch, we headed out in search of some ruins that the lady at the tourist office had told us existed. We drove on dirt roads past Humahuaca for about 10 km in search of these ruins. The only thing we found was a small village (which the boys named Rock Village) with some goat herders. Then we headed a bit north (on the main highway, which was paved, thank God!) in search of some other ruins, but the only thing we found were cacti.
Day Three
The morning of Day Three we left the dry desert behind and headed to Calilengua National Park. To get there, we had to return to San Salvador de Jujuy, and then head North again on another road. We passed through some towns that are really not worth mentioning and finally reached the park. It is supposedly a rain forest, but since we were there in the dry season, there was absolutely nothing rainy about it. After reaching the park entrance, and going on a hike that was supposed to take one hour but took 15 minutes, we decided to drive through the park to a village called San Francisco, where we heard that there were hot springs. The only problem was that we needed to drive 45 km on a road that looked something like this:
That's right, 45 km of dirt switchbacks. We almost died at least once when a motorcycle came racing around a corner and we had to slam on the breaks not to hit them. After that, I spent the rest of the ride with my eyes closed and trying not to look out the window. I probably made everyone really nervous because I kept telling my friend (who was driving) to honk before she went around the corners.
But, the treacherous drive was worth it as we arrived to San Francisco, a village of 50 families on top of a mountain. We stayed at Hostal Esquinas, whose owner, Italo, was a very helpful and kind man who taught us about the history of the village and surrounding area. There are two villages "near" San Francisco which can only be accessed by foot or on horseback. These villages are over 500 years old, and the indigenous that live there still maintain their traditional way of life. He also mentioned that there was a village of "gringos" which had me imagining a settlement of American and British people, but when I asked for clarification, he explained that he meant people of Spanish origin.
We went to the almacén and bought some vegetables and eggs and went back to the hostel and made dinner, because there are no restaurants in San Francisco.Day Four
The plan for this day was to hike down to some hot springs. Italo warned us that it would be a difficult hike, but we were game so we headed out bright and early. We walked for an hour and a half down through a forest. It was a quite pleasant walk going down because it wasn't too steep and it was still quite cool.
We finally reached the river, but couldn't find the hot springs. N. and J., two of the boys, headed out to explore to see if they could find them, leaving me, my friend and D. behind. We waited for them for awhile, but then got nervous, so went off looking for them. They had since discovered a different path down to the hot springs. So the three of us headed down. Except "path" is not exactly the word I would use to describe what we were going down, more like a cliff. I am afriad of heights so I had a small panic attack that caused us to reevaluate the situation. D. went on ahead and then decided that the trail was too steep for him, so the three of us headed back up. The worst part was that I could see the beautiful hot springs from the side of the cliff, but I was so scared and freaking out that I couldn't make it down. Bummer.
Then we headed back up the trail, and it was HARD. By this time, it was around noon so the sun was beating down and the trail was ALL uphill. We had forgotten to fill up our water bottles in the river, so we didn't have much water, which made me kind of panicky. But anyway, we made it back up and then drove back down the 45km of dirt switchbacks and all the way back to Salta, arriving there around 7:00pm. That night, we went to a parrillada (Argentine steakhouse) and I had the most delicious bife chorizo (sirloin strip steak) I've ever had in my life (no picture, I ate it too fast). Then we went and had some beers in the plaza and I took this picture of the cathedral all lit up.
Day Five
Day five was spent exploring Salta. There is a really interesting Archeological museum that has two mummies on display. These mummies were found buried near the top of a nearby Volcano, and they are royal Incan children. It was interesting to learn their story, but kind of creepy to see the mummies. It makes me wonder that if these children were sacrificed for a religious purpose, shouldn't they be left where they were buried?
After the museum, we went and ate some traditional empanadas salteñas (which are small, yet delicious) and then went up Salta's gondola (similar to Santiago's teleferico). I should mention that throughout the trip, we always drank terere, which is a Paraguayan drink. It is basically ice cold yerba mate. It sounds disgusting, but it is delicious and refreshing, especially with mint leaves in the water. In this picture, J. is holding the terere cup.
At the top of the gondola was a beautiful park with a water fall. I have to say, the park in Salta might be nicer than San Cristobal in Santiago.
At the end of the day, my friends and traveling companions left to go back to Paraguay. I stayed another day, but didn't take any pictures. I mostly spent it buying souvenirs and books and reading said books in the various plazas throughout Salta. That night my flight left for Buenos Aires, and then after five hours of trying to sleep in Aeroparque again, my flight to Santiago left and I arrived home.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Fashion Emergency, Take 2
Yesterday I was running a little late for class. Generally I like to arrive at least 20 minutes before class to gather my things, look over the book and think of some sort of interesting warm up. However, I was so excited about Jelly Belly finally coming to Chile, that I decided to go to OK Market on my way to class and therefore arrived with only five minutes to spare.
I headed down to the teacher's lounge and went to open my locker. It's the bottom locker, so I squatted down only to hear a giant RIIIIIIIP and there went the ENTIRE back seam of my pants.
Now, before you think I'm a fatty (well, I had just eaten a bag of Jelly Belly's, so maybe I am!) let me give you some background on these pants. I bought them at Zara more than a year ago. They are super versatile, because they are dress pants, but they're made of a stretchy-cotton material that is super comfortable. They are light enough to wear in summer, but also perfectly appropriate for winter. I wear (wore) them a lot. At least once if not twice a week. For more than a year. So they were a little worn. In fact, yesterday morning when I was holding them up to see if they were too wrinkly to wear, I noticed that the seam looked a little weak. But I thought, I'm not going to run or go hiking in them, so they should hold up. Famous last words.
So anyway, after just squatting there completely surprised and taken aback, I tried to decide what to do. THANK GOD there wasn't anyone else in the teacher's lounge just then because they would have gotten an eye full. I finally thought to tie my jacket around my waist. However, my jacket is really short, so I was still super paranoid about people being able to see my tush. As I walked from the lounge to the classroom, I felt like Jo in Little Women when she goes to Sally Moffat's engagement party and she's wearing the dress with the burnt backside and she tries to keep her back to the wall the whole time.
So I arrived to class and told my teenagers to bring their desks close to mine, and we managed to have class like that. I didn't even have to stand up once the entire class to write something on the board.
After class, I had 40 minutes before my second class started. So I booked it about five blocks to Paris to buy a new pair of pants. Luckily I had bought a pair of jeans about a month ago at Paris, so I decided to buy the same brand in the same size because I didn't have time to try them on. They didn't have the same model available, but I bought a similar one and thank God they fit.
I got to class and the two girls in my class told me how much they loved my pants.
If only they knew....
I headed down to the teacher's lounge and went to open my locker. It's the bottom locker, so I squatted down only to hear a giant RIIIIIIIP and there went the ENTIRE back seam of my pants.
Now, before you think I'm a fatty (well, I had just eaten a bag of Jelly Belly's, so maybe I am!) let me give you some background on these pants. I bought them at Zara more than a year ago. They are super versatile, because they are dress pants, but they're made of a stretchy-cotton material that is super comfortable. They are light enough to wear in summer, but also perfectly appropriate for winter. I wear (wore) them a lot. At least once if not twice a week. For more than a year. So they were a little worn. In fact, yesterday morning when I was holding them up to see if they were too wrinkly to wear, I noticed that the seam looked a little weak. But I thought, I'm not going to run or go hiking in them, so they should hold up. Famous last words.
So anyway, after just squatting there completely surprised and taken aback, I tried to decide what to do. THANK GOD there wasn't anyone else in the teacher's lounge just then because they would have gotten an eye full. I finally thought to tie my jacket around my waist. However, my jacket is really short, so I was still super paranoid about people being able to see my tush. As I walked from the lounge to the classroom, I felt like Jo in Little Women when she goes to Sally Moffat's engagement party and she's wearing the dress with the burnt backside and she tries to keep her back to the wall the whole time.
So I arrived to class and told my teenagers to bring their desks close to mine, and we managed to have class like that. I didn't even have to stand up once the entire class to write something on the board.
After class, I had 40 minutes before my second class started. So I booked it about five blocks to Paris to buy a new pair of pants. Luckily I had bought a pair of jeans about a month ago at Paris, so I decided to buy the same brand in the same size because I didn't have time to try them on. They didn't have the same model available, but I bought a similar one and thank God they fit.
I got to class and the two girls in my class told me how much they loved my pants.
If only they knew....
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