why I don't have a "nana"

Exhibit A: The nana we hired, who did sub-par cleaning, wasn't careful w/ cleaning products around the baby, and when told that the walls needing wiping (small hands, big dirt), said that she didn't like the wall texture, and wouldn't have it in her house (and then she proceeded to watch me clean the walls). Her indignation about Vivi and I napping, when Vivi was recovering from an ear infection during her "vacuuming time" didn't help things either.

Exhibit B: The nana I saw at the park, who, instead of noticing the little girl she was "watching" had to go to the bathroom (15 minutes of crotch-holding), looked at her nana friend's phone pictures, then took another 10 minutes, after little girl had wet herself, to notice, and then change her clothes in the middle of the crowded park.

Exhibit C: The nana who pushed a stroller all the way to the park, sat on a bench for 30 minutes, while the little boy she was "watching" watched other kids play, from his stroller. Then left.

Exhibit D: The general realization that nana's have no skills, no training, and very little education. They qualify for their job with the willingness to do it. And with their willingness to take very little money to raise other people's children. Badly.

I hope everyone who has, will, or might ask me, pityingly, why I don't have a nana, reads this and understands that I feel I am better qualified to take care of my child than a Peruvian whose only qualification for doing so is poverty. If I was a hard-core democrat (or a democrat at all, for that matter), I might agree with the sentiment of feeling obligated to provide employment for those who need it. But I'm not, and I don't. I'm off now to do some above par cleaning, then provide my child with a stimulating afternoon.

adventures, mishaps, lessons

I was recently re-reading the Chile guidebook, which makes a bit more sense now that I've got a better feel for Santiago and the country as a whole. It said something about how the people here are friendly (but really, how many guidebooks say that the locals are assholes?) but that foreigners are always foreigners. I found myself nodding, because although I have felt right at home with the expat community, with Chileans...not so much. We invited a number of people to Vivi's birthday BBQ, and I found it curious that none of the Chileans came. We had a German, Spaniard, a bunch of Brits, a Dutchman, and some other Americans (I think...) but no Chileans. The concept of foreigners is odd to me, as an American, because in a place like Los Angeles, and increasingly in more of the country, no one is a foreigner. I think about the people I worked with in Pasadena. I had colleagues from Nigeria, Jordan, Mexico, all over Central America, South Africa, and others (that I often times wasn't aware of their original origin, or didn't even notice and think to ask) and I never thought of them as "foreigners." They were, like me, Americans. It's things like this that make me realize why it's difficult to ever feel like you fit somewhere. I wonder if those colleagues sometimes didn't feel like they fit, because there was an attitude that was different, that they just couldn't get used to. I like to think that they felt like Americans, but now that I've been the "foreigner" it makes me wonder how they felt different from me as Americans.

I also had a "I just don't fit in" moment at the supermarket. I had done a big shopping trip, with Vivi with me, and we were at the checkout. The checkout, at any store here, moves very, very slowly. The checker didn't seem to care that people were tired, restless, and doing their best to entertain small children with what little help existed at the checkout stand. (Whoever said a pack of gum isn't a good toy?) There were drinks nearby, so I grabbed a Sprite and opened it, glad to have some relief from the heat generated by so many bodies waiting to pay and get out of there. I said aloud, which I find myself doing more and more (the freedom of most people not understand you) that I would pay for it only if I hadn't finished it when it was my turn to check out. I drank the drink, and I was still waiting, so I put the can next to the conveyer belt, but not on it. I realized at the time that this was something I would NEVER, EVER do in the US. I had lectured my students many times on how shoplifting raises prices for everyone, and it's not fair to everyone else who pays.

And you know why I didn't pay for that drink? Because this isn't my country. I don't care about whether or not prices go up in the long run. I'm leaving in two years. I don't care if soft drinks cost $20 each and the entire country dies of thirst (well, I do care about my expat friends. But Chileans...not so much).

I know, I know , it was wrong. I'm setting a bad example for my child. But just give me a chance to explain what else I learned from this experience. If the Chilean policia read this and come after me, I at least want evidence that the experience gave me insight into the psyche of shoplifters.

I realized that all the times I had conversations with my students, and after my lecture about why they shouldn't shoplift, they shrugged and said, "I don't care." Now I know what they meant! They meant, "This isn't my place. I'm not part of it, so I don't care what happens to it. I'm just trying to survive and get what I can out of it." Wrong or right, I believe this is part of the reason for crime. People are looking for a way to make a place theirs, whether that's with graffiti, or gangs, or they don't care, so they do things, like shoplifting, with a feeling of disconnection.

So there's my lesson. I plan to pay for my next drink. And I have given larger than normal tips to the baggers at that market since then as a way to compensate ($ doesn't go to the store, but it's more coming from me). And I hope that the insight I gained from the experience will make me a better teacher, parent, and citizen of wherever I am in two years.

end of an era

Updates: Vivi had birthday number 1! We celebrated by going to Applebee's on her actual birthday, where she got a free chocolate meltdown cake (yes, I'm one of those bad moms who gives the baby chocolate) and sang Cumpleanos Feliz to her. On Valentine's Day, we had Vivi's Valentine BBQ Birthday Bash. About 20 people came to eat bbq, drink wine or beer, and hang out with us. We were able to actually invite people to our apartment because we finally got the light fixtures and pictures hung (unfurnished means you get nada here).

Positives: I am finally starting to feel a bit connected here. I found a North American Moms Living in Santiago group that has coffees and weekly playgroup. Which is nice, because as much as Vivi and I love each other, it's nice to be around other people. I have also visited with other friends here. I really enjoy going to the Dents' (Alison and Bill) house, because it's very relaxed, and Vivi can explore, and their two lovely children, Thomas and Nico, are a pleasure to be around. I just have to keep Vivi from picking up the poor kitten by its head.

It was also nice to have people over for a gathering. Vivi did much better than we expected, and spent the time mingling, eating off people's plates, drinking their water, and playing with Thomas and Nico. It seemed people had a nice time, and I enjoyed it. It was a good way to celebrate surviving Vivi's first year.

Negatives:
Speaking of Vivi and surviving...I've had a few of those "bad mom" moments recently when I do stuff that you hope you NEVER do as a parent. Like lock the child in the car. Which could have been much worse, because it was in the subterranean parking garage, so it wasn't hot. And Stuartt works ten minutes away, so he came home quickly with extra keys (luckily he wasn't observing). I did have to run upstairs to get phone reception to call him, and Vivi was decided UNhappy about being in there by herself, but a hug and a bot helped her recover quickly.

She has taken recently to climbing into the picture window in the living room, then diving off onto the couch. I baricade her out of the living room when I'm not in there, but once she dove off, bounced, and hit the floor. Again, hugs and bot did the trick. And while the playgroup is a good thing, being around a bunch of other toddlers does put her at higher risk for injury. Our first time at a coffee, she was in the Hansel and Gretal playhouse and another girl closed the shutters-on her pinky finger. I felt Soooooooo bad for her. A piece of skin hung off her finger, she was screaming, she fell down in the dirt, and her finger was red and squashed. I immediately envisioned stitches and reconstructive surgery, but it turned out not to be that bad. Hugs, bot, and cold water on her finger, and she was off playing again. A few days of neosporin on the finger and it's healing nicely.

So, all in all, not a bad birthday week. Hopefully we'll spend a good portion of year two with friends, but not getting injured.

finally settling in

Updates: Vivi got and recovered from an ear infection, we fired the nana (subpar cleaning wasn't a big deal, but her attitude was), we are planning for Vivi's birthday party, and I passed my driving exam and got a license (yeah!)

Positives: It felt good to have the guts to fire someone who wasn't doing a good job. I've had fun planning a menu for "Vivi's Valentine BBQ Birthday Bash," and making stuff ahead of time for practice. I'm also slowly and finally coming to terms with the fact that I don't understand most of what people say, most of the time. And things are still constantly catching me by surprise. Just as I think I have things figured out, I get thrown off again. For example, I went to a panaderia the other day. At almost all panaderias, the tongs are in the bread bins, and you're supposed to use them. At this store, there is a bucket of tongs by the door that you're supposed to get when you go in, use, and then put back when you leave. I didn't notice this until I left, and was utterly confused by the "use the tongs, the tongs aren't here" sign by the bread. Ah well, my hands weren't that dirty.

Negatives: baking products. I cannot find corn starch or baking soda (though I can find baking powder, which contains baking soda). But what do I do if I have a recipe that calls for both??? Also still lamenting the lack of cheddar cheese and, as always, diet dr. pepper.

Also, the "North American Moms Living In Santiago" playgroup that I tried to go to isn't happening in February. Bah. I went all the way downtown for nothing.

I'll have to go look for friends elsewhere, I suppose.

Yo no understando

I'm breaking my new format already, because I have some things to say that can't possibly be summarized in "updates, positives, and complaints."

One of the things that has made it easier for me to live here is being okay with my own stupidity. The first couple of months, I struggled a great deal to understand everything that everyone said to me, every word, and I was constantly worried that someone would say something really important that I wouldn't "get." I'm not sure if it's because I understand more now, or because I just don't care as much, but it's become easier to roll through daily life understanding what seems like very little.

I estimated yesterday that I understand an average of about 2 words in every sentence that is spoken to me (in Spanish). And, of course, I latch onto the words and try to make sense of the rest of what was said. Phrases like "el fundo," which means "at the end," are used all the time, even if something isn't "at the end," but if someone says "blah blah blah el fundo blah blah blah mundo," I think, "wait, it's the end of the world????!!!"

There are lots of words in Spanish that sound alike but have different accents. I think this is a key component of why it's challenging for an American to understand, because we say words however we want. But the whole "you say tomato, I say tomato" doesn't apply in Spanish. If you say "to-mah-to" it's a totally different thing than "to-may-to," for example. My Spanish teacher here pointed out that English words have accents. "Yeah, but we ignore them," I told her. We just say things however, and people figure it out.

I also get thrown by silent vowels, which English also has its share of. One day, for my Spanish lesson, we went for a walk, and she kept saying what I thought was something about ice cream (helado). But I eventually figured out, when I asked when we were stopping for ice cream, is that she was saying "al lado," (beside). Since the "h" in "helado" is silent, how am I suppose to hear the difference?

Sometimes I do worry about my lack of understanding posing problems. Like, what if someone was yelling that a truck was coming up beside me, but I thought they were telling me about an ice cream truck? (Al lado vs. helado). I might die while wondering whether I should get the waffle cone.

But, most of the time being okay with stupidity is okay. It was just really too stressful to worry all the time that someone would say something important. I cried a lot the first month for this reason. Now I'm like, "Oh well, they probably didn't tell me I won the lottery." And sometimes it works in my favor. Even if I did speak/understand Spanish fluently, I don't look like a Spanish-speaker. Which allows me to wander into private country clubs, or go the wrong way in parking garages, or shake my head when asked for money from a beggar. Always the same answer: "No entiendo."

It's the little things

Updates:
Vivi has learned how to take off her diaper (god help us) and open doors. This means a hightened level of security (possibly orange!) to prevent her from giving herself swirlies in the toilet or inspecting the bathroom trash.

She has decided that she needs to be held for the entire duration of all naps, and possible for all nighttime sleeping as well. I like to cuddle her, but this is where I draw the line. She is cuddled, then put in her crib, where she screams and whines (sometimes for a while) and eventually goes to sleep. If she is really tired, this is not necessary (which is why I make her do laps before bed).

I have become one of those cruel cry-it-out moms, but if she thinks I'm going to hold her all night, she's wrong. Mom needs her sleep. And I know, because I've read 18,000 books about parenting, that this is a result of separation anxiety and it will eventually pass.

Positives:
We figured out how to return recyclable bottles here. There are two different types of bottles you can buy, retornable (I swear that's Spanglish) or non-retornable. If you buy the retornable ones, you take them back to the store, stuff them in a machine, push a button, and it spits out a ticket. You take the ticket to the cashiers when you check out with all your groceries, and you pay less for the new bottles. Ideally, you buy the same number of bottles as you just turned in, but the grocery checkers here are generally assholes, so I think it may be fun to take in 4 but only buy 3 and watch their Chilean hampsters fall off the wheels. But then, it will also result in them saying "blah blah blah blah blah blah el fundo" to me. So maybe it's not worth it. (El fundo means "the end," and it is the answer EVERY SINGLE TIME you ask where something is in a store. We think people may actually be signaling that it's the end of what they're saying. Like when you say, "the end" at the end of a children's story.

Complaints:
We have to add "roast beef" to the list of foods we will have to live without for a while. So even though we can find good bread, and horseradish sauce, a roast beef sandwich is not to be had.

I am really sick of studying for my stupid driving test. There are 280 questions, many of which are just wrong: they say "mark one answer," then have all four options marked as correct, or they don't make sense: "What do you have to do when going in cars row?" or they have nothing to do with driving (for example, number 52 "Which of the following statements is true in relation to the development of a person's morality?" (I want a driver's license, not a degree in psychology!) And, if anyone in this entire country follows the guidelines of this exam, then I am qualified to be a Spanish/English interpreter for the UN.

new, improved format (for me, anyway)

I haven't blogged in quite a while, and I realized that's because I set the bar pretty high with my early posts-pictures, detailed descriptions of outings, etc. I now understand that I need to k.i.s.e. (keep it simple estupido). From now on (or until I decided to become even lazier), my blogs will contain phrases (or maybe even sentences, if I'm feeling spry that day) as updates, and, so it's not endless ranting about this god-foresaken place with no chocolate chips, I will include a couple of complaints AND a couple of positives (well, at least one).


So here goes-here is my lame attempt at catching up about what's going on here:
Updates:

Vivi has eleven teeth, including 3 molars. She also has separation anxiety, which means she wakes up SCREAMING at night. My cold, dark heart gives her a pat, then goes back to bed. She goes back to sleep in about 15 minutes

Stuartt passed and I failed the driving test, which means I have to retake it next week. I was given a bank of 275 "English" questions to study. Some of them are psychology about how young people feel about themselves. It's no wonder Chileans drive like shit.

I quit my Spanish lessons, because I dreaded them every single time and they weren't really helping. I'm learning a lot more by talking to the nana and looking up words I don't know.

Complaints:
People who work as grocery checkers here are ASSHOLES. Seriously, when I say, in Spanish, that I understand when people speak slowly, then you don't speak slowly, it's not okay to make fun of me in Spanish to the person standing behind me in line. I know enough to understand that you're an ASSHOLE. This has happened to me more than once, in more than one place. So it's not just me.

Dogs bark here ALL THE TIME. I am going to poison every last one of them, I swear. And their owners, for good measure.

Positives:
The bread is good.
Wine is cheap.
Our baby is cuter than all the Chilean babies.

That's all for now. As they say here, "tien buen," which probably means "have a nice day."

This is a typical example of how difficult a very simple task can be made: trying to mail some clothes to someone as a baby present.

Found correos. Tried to buy box for clothes at correos. No boxes at correos. Woman at correos said something something blah blah caja al floreria. Went to floreria. No cajas there. Woman at floreria said something something blah blah el fundo dereche. Went to the end of the line of shops and found cajaria (why don't they just have them at the f'ing correos???) Told woman that the caja she thought I needed was too big. She proceeded to cram stuff into caja and in doing so ripped the card. I tried to tell her that I should get the caja for free because she ruined my card (no quiero pagar porque TU molestared mi tarjeta!) Of course, she no intiende. i said I wanted to organize the stuff before I taped it up. She said a bunch of stuff-possibly her family history-which was then translated for me as "not in here, not enough room." Okay. Went outside to organize stuff. Bought box, but found out they have no foam peanuts or other stuff. I asked (with gestures) if they tape it there. Yes. She handed me a role of tape. I sighed. I then realized that I didn't have the address anyway, so I would have to go home, then come back. Walked home, via the swings and panaderia. Got home, got cute blonde baby out of stroller. Cute blonde baby drank some milk, then spit up on clothes I was going to send in the mail. Put clothes in laundry room and told nana they needed to be washed but not put away. Sighed again. Ate some chocolate. Got misty eyed at thought of going to UPS store with nice chinese guy, boxes, and foam peanuts (and cards) all together. Sighed.


For those readers who are not as fluent in Spanish as I am (ha ha), here are some definiitions: cajas = boxes, dereche=right (well, it's either dereche or derecha or derecho. whatever), correos = post office, nana = maid,

foreign cuisine

I had planned all along to make empanadas for Thanksgiving (but our stuff arrived from the US the day before, so that didn't happen), then it got moved to Christmas. And now the season of noel is upon us, and yet our home is not filled with the savory scent of baking empanadas. Por que? Porque yo estoy sick of trying to cook here!!!

It started with the idea of giving people fudge for Christmas. My mom created the world's easiest fudge recipe-you use 5 ingredients and cook it in the microwave. It's very tasty as well, but...nothing can be that easy in Chile. First I couldn't find baking chocolate, but I did find marshmallows (though flavored with vanilla), and what I thought was canned milk. I also got a bit confused about the difference between butter (manteca in my book), margarine (margarina), and shortening (which is apparently also sometimes called manteca, as I found out after I bought some).

So I tried to use the manteca (which was shortening, not butter) because I have always preferred the taste of things made with butter over margarine. And I used chopped up Hershey's chocolate bars, because chocolate chips don't exist here. And the vanilla marshmallows, and "probably" canned milk. Really, the sugar was the only thing I was certain of.

The first batch came out very goopy, like it didn't have enough marshmallows. So I made another batch, but with more marshmallows. The consistency was better, but it didn't really taste chocolaty enough. So I figured maybe the chocolate was wrong, and I decided to look harder for baker's chocolate with less milk in it. I also looked for non-flavored marshmallows, because the vanilla didn't seem like a good addition.

After a trip to the market, I was re-energized and ready to try again. So I did, with my bowls, and big wooden spoon, but to no avail. The third batch was also goopy, though more chocolaty. I decided the marshmallows must be the offending culprite, because though the recipe calls for marshmallow fluff (and I have a better chance of finding Diet Dr. Pepper than that), I was melting down marshmallows instead. Batch number 4 was given extra marshmallows, and I used the good chocolate, and it tasted good, but basically like very chocolaty flavored marshmallow.

So I gave up. We did figure out, though, that everyone here gives the security people Christmas gifts, so I felt compelled to make something for them. I tried to make some cookies, but overbaked them so they are unfit for gifting.

I did manage to make blueberry pancakes for breakfast this morning, and a nice shrimp dish for dinner last night, with coconut milk and ginger, but my chef's hat has been deflated enough by the fudge-making experience that I just don't feel up to trying with the empanadas right now. Maybe for New Year's, or Valentine's, or Easter. But not today.

i'm on the wrong setting

Sometimes I feel that living in another country is like being a machine that's on the wrong setting for what it's being asked to do. I expect things to be a certain way, and when they don't happen that way, it's simply very frustrating. I knew coming here that things would be different, but I didn't expect that how people respond to everyday situations emotionally would be that different. And it's not drastically different, but just enough so that I feel like I'm not in sync with my surroundings.

For example, people here drive like they are going to DIE if they don't get somewhere in the next 2 seconds. I understand urgency, and even road rage when you are pressed to get somewhere and sitting in traffic, but people honk at other cars when their car can't go anywhere. If someone is in a lane, and they can't go because someone is doing something in front of them, it doesn't make sense for cars behind the whole thing to honk hysterically. This morning I was at a green light, and there was a huge sign that said you could only turn left with a green arrow. But the woman behind me was basically pissing herself because I wouldn't go. And she gave me all these dirty looks when she whipped around me later. Sorry, chica, no voy ir cuando no puedo parati!

So, driving can be a pain. I still prefer driving to buses, or walking, but it's additionally difficult I think because of its juxtaposition to everything else, which barely moves at all, much less quickly. I swear I have spent more time here standing in line at checkouts than doing anything else. People have zero sense of urgency unless they are driving, and then it's in overdrive.

I think I feel displaced, because I apply the sense of urgency to everything, and I get frustrated when most things take forever, but people expect me to change lanes in .00002 seconds.

It worries me, because the attitude when driving seems to be to ignore everyone else, and just push your way wherever you want to go. And honk at everyone who gets close to you and threatens to thwart your high-speed chase pace. I find myself becoming like that, but I am transferring it to how I deal with people in general. Going back to checkout lanes, people don't care if you have a fussy baby and a cartload of stuff. They bolt in front of you to get in line, or expect you to reverse the stroller in a small space so they can walk through first.

Driving hme from shopping today, feeling disgruntled at the people of Santiago, I was thinking today that the moniker "ugly American" seems to be a misplaced label. I don't think Americans act this way at all. Well, sometimes, but not in general. I worry that I don't act this way towards people that way now, but in 2 years I will. I will become an ugly American because I left America.

Speaking of leaving America, our stuff, which left some time ago, has yet to make an appearance. The government workers, including customs officials, are on strike, so our stuff is sitting at the port. So we are sleeping on a futon mattress on the floor, and we have no tables. But, such is life. It's not the end of the world, and everyone who comes down here goes through it, blah blah blah. Knowing that doesn't make me want my stuff any less.

We are in our new apartment, of which I will post pix soon. Until then, I am going to take a nap so I will be prepared to face another outing in the wild wilderness of the Santiago streets later.

from the outside looking in

I keep a running list of things I am going to buy, mostly at The Kingdom of Target, when we go back to visit the US next June. Yesterday when I was at the grocery store, I started thinking about things they have here, but not in the US. So here's my imagined reaction of a Chilean who is visiting the US for the first time, and what they will put on their list of things to buy at HiperLider.

Why do I have to get out of my car to pump gas? And wash my own windshield? I guess you can find places that have full service, but they cost more, and they are sometimes hard to find. In fact, where are the people at intersections on the street who will wash my windshield for whatever money I give them? And why isn't anyone standing on the street selling water, or sodas? What if you get thirsty? You have to get out of your car, or find a place with a drive-thru, like AutoMac (or AutoKing)? There is also no one selling ice cream at the bus stops, or strawberries, asparagus, or brussel sprouts. And when I sit at the red lights, there's no entertainment. In Santiago, people juggle, dance, and even eat fire, for as much or little money as I want to give. You can also buy a newspaper while waiting for the light to turn green, as well as a cell phone charger, toys, gum, and candy.

And while we're on the subject of being in your car, why do people drive so slowly here? Do they have no place to go? They wait around for an invitation to change lanes, too. Dios mio, people, push your way over and step on it! I won't even go into the lack of available cabs and buses. They may be crowded in Santiago, but at least they are everywhere.

Everyone here talks about how great the soda (pop) is, but I'm not convinced it's that great. Dr. Pepper has twenty different flavors, but that means you cannot taste any one of them! Where's the Bilz, the Pap, and the Coke Light (Diet Coke is so not the same thing). Where are the great little cookies that come in gold wrappers near the checkout? Where is the Quatro, and the water con gas? The bread here is horrible! All they have are packages of bread; where are the giant bins with very fresh bread? They have a few pieces of that here, but it's not that fresh. And there are two kinds, instead of twenty or thirty. And the fish-it's a disgrace. Why can't I go to the supermarket, pick out a whole fish, and have them fillet it perfectly for me to cook? And when I ask to have the head, they look at me like I am crazy.

They have one, maybe two kinds of pisco, and it's very expensive. And there are no pre-mixed bottles of Pisco Sours. The wine is pretty good in some places, but you can't get a good bottle for $2 or $3 like you can "back home." And why is the milk in the refrigerator? It's going to last only a few days like that. Why don't they have heat-treated milk in cartons that lasts for weeks? I don't want to go buy milk every 2 days!

Some things seem the same, but they're just not. The deli meat is not as fresh. The produce is good when it's in season, but it's very expensive. I miss chirimollas, and nisperos, and the different, very hot peppers that I can't find here.

Shopping in general is different. At the malls in Santiago, you can do everything-pay bills, mail letters, get your pants hemmed, buy clothes, and most malls are next to a grocery store, and even a Sodimac (like Home Depot). So I could get everything done with one stop. But here I have to wander all over to find the right stores.

Ah, but I guess there are things nice about his strange place. People here don't appreciate soccer, but they do care a lot about sports. The odd sauces that they put on meats are actually pretty tasty, and you can usually find a lot of different kinds of restaurants. The restaurants don't close in the middle of the day, so if I want to eat lunch late or early, I can. And even though most Americans can't make empanadas, or mix a decent pisco sour, they are generally friendly, and willing to talk endlessly about just about anything.

And, of course, there is Target here.

I thought I lost my wallet...

I was convinced that I threw it in the trash after we cleaned out the car yesterday, when we got home from a bbq (and, of course, yesterday was trash day). Turns out, getting things replaced here would not have been that difficult. Someone had already ordered me a new RUT card (id) and bank cards. But getting a new driver's license from CA? Impossible. Even though I just renewed it in January, I would have to go to the dmv in person, fill out a form, give them fingerprints, and then have them mail it to me. At a US address. Uh, I don't live in the US anymore...

The reason my driver's license is so important? If I don't have it, I have to take the driving test here to get a Chilean driver's license. In Spanish. I know some words, but not enough to take a freaking driving test. And as far as I can tell, there are basically no traffic laws here except "drive as fast as possible at all times and get the hell out of the way." Which is how I drive anyway, so I love driving here, but still. Oh, and "no left turns." You can drive for miles sometimes before there's not a sign prohibiting left turns. I've yet to figure out why, and I've made a lot of illegal left turns (I found out that with a diplomatic card, you don't get tickets or thrown in jail).

When I thought my license was gone forever, along with my freedom in a car, we headed to Applebee's to drown our sorrows in the muy fuerte margaritas. But then I found it on the way there, wedged under the seat, so we were going to celebrate. I will say that looking for it without holding a 23 lb. baby in one arm was much easier.

Cute blonde baby seemed happy that we were going out to dinner for whatever reason. And why wouldn't she? The wait staff dotes on her like she's a princess. Something that I've noticed here is that men are much more child-oriented than in the US. When we would go shopping there, lots of women would talk to her and coo at her, but hardly any men. Here, it's both. And men seem to go more over the top with it, stroking her cheek, picking her up, and talking to her in Spanish. She eats it up and does her little smile with her teeth (8!) clicking together. Just what I need-moving here is going to turn her into a little flirt.

Oh, and yes I know it's a bit lame that Applebee's is our "place to go." But local restaurants don't serve dinner until 9 or 10, when cute blonde baby is in bed. So we have to go with what's open. And we know the menu, so it's comfortable, and the staff there is really just very, very nice.

buying cars, making friends, first steps

So we have been told that our "stuff" is supposed to arrive on November 19th. That is assuming that the slow boat it is on isn't captured by pirates, and that the dockworkers at the Panama Canal don't go on strike, and that the truck drivers here in Chile feel like getting it to Santiago. The chances of all these things working out in the next 10 days? I'm thinking pretty unlikely. And I'll probably have a full body cavity search just so they'll unload my dishes, because security here is NO JOKE. Every house has a gate, every apartment building a doorman, every parking lot an attendant. We had to do fingerprints to get a cell phone. But I wonder-does everyone have to do that, or just sketchy-looking Americans with cute blonde babies?

Speaking of, cute blonde baby decided that it's time to start walking! Yesterday afternoon she took about 8 steps, then 4 more later. Today she's decided that was enough, and crawling is still much faster, but it was pretty exciting. We got some video, no pictures, and did lots of clapping for her. We go to the park and hang out w/ other babies and the other moms ask me if I'm sure she's only 9 months old. She's still very big for her age, with 8 teeth, but I figure it's okay. She'll go to pre-school and stomp on the other kids and I'll be called in for a conference. Cute blonde baby the bully.

So-enough bragging about the baby-back to our drama with buying things. To buy a car, you have to go and look at cars, figure out how much $ you need, go to your bank and beg for a loan for that much $, go back to the dealership with a check for the money (but only after the bank people have had a meeting and decided whether or not to give you any money), give the dealership half the money, then go back to the bank and get the other half, give that to the dealership, and then, 3-5 days later, go pick up your car. There's no going to the dealership and picking up your car the same day. But, it is what it is. I like to notice the differences, because it's how I feel I get to know a place.

There are more social events here now that we've settled a bit and we know people. That's been helpful for feeling like we belong here a bit better. A lovely British woman gave me a lesson in how to make tea properly, so if we have people over I won't have to heat water for their tea in a microwave. We went to a food festival at the International School, which was nice (and delicious-especially at the Turkey booth. Say what you want about the Turks. They may, historically, have been barbarians, but they can cook). And we went to a bbq (no sauce:( at a park in the wine region west of here.

Halloweeen was an interesting event. Kids of people in the wealthier neighborhoods dress up and trick-or-treat, but everyone else mostly views Halloween as an American holiday that is not part of their culture. The poor cannot afford to do it, and older people don't "get it." We tried to dress Vivi up as a ladybug, but she screamed, but she was willing to wear an orange shirt, black pants, and a pumpkin hat. We went to the park and saw all the other kids dressed up, but go not trick-or-treaters.

One of the best things about Santiago has to be the parks. There are open spaces everywhere, and people spend time outside, sitting, eating, and kids playing. I like that part of the culture, and I worry that when we move back to the US, Vivi will become more of an American kid (watching tv and playing video games instead of playing outside). Of course, we can encourage her to play outside, but she will want to do what other kids do....That, and the fact that the International School here is very good are making me start to think that it would be nice to stay.

But we'll see what next week brings...

I now understand

Not a damn thing about Chile, of course. Other than the fact that they use eighteen sentences to say "Can I see your ID?" and that returning anything to a store is more complicated than surgery. I understand why people gravitate back to their home countries, even when they spend most of their breath speaking badly of them. I understand that even though you know that "your country" has its host of problems, it's still where you belong.

I left the US glad to be away for a while from the entitlement, political correctness, media drama about celebrities, badly-behaved children, bad parenting, and processed food.

What I wasn't prepared for is how used to these things I actually am, and how they do in some ways benefit me. Children may not always behave in the US, but they are raised most of the time by their parents, not nannies. Children may have melt-downs at Super Target, but it's often because women work and have to take their children with them after a long day at work. So when we are out with Vivi, and she gets tired, or fed up w/ being in her stroller, people don't look at us with sympathy, because we've both had a long day. They wonder why I didn't leave her with the nanny and go shopping on my own. Or, stay at home with her and send the maid to the store.

People feeling entitled means that stores and restaurants know that people expect to get what they pay for. Which means when you buy a product, and it breaks, you return it for your money or a new one. Ahhhhaaa! laugh the retailers of Santiago. "We'll call you next week." That's what you're told when you have a problem.

A major issue in the US right now is health care. But let me tell you, it's not so bad. Last week, I went to the dr. with a urinary tract infection. I knew I had one, because I had a litmus test you can buy at drug stores in the US. The doctor took my temperature by putting his hand on my forehead and had me urinate in a bedpan so he could "take a look at it." I did get antibiotics, but it seemed a bit, well, non-medical, to me.

But the thing is this: I am sure that people who are from here are fine with it, and if they live in the US, they may find the medical care impersonal (I guess taking someone's temperature w/ a thermometer is a bit impersonal, even if it is under the tongue).

It's the little things-the fact that you pay for parking before you get in your car, not at the gate, having to have produce and bread weighed before checking out at the supermercado, having to get a ticket with a number for EVERYTHING, even if no one else is in line, that make me feel like I don't belong here. People are nice enough, even if they do blather on and speak way too fast. But I'm just not used to the systems. And I think that's what people miss when they live away from home-systems that they are used to. Not having to think about everything. Not having to search for words to say that you did something yesterday, because all the verbs you know are in present tense.

So even though the US has many flaws, I know I will be glad when we go back. Because I am a flawed product of its systems, which I now understand.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

ventures in Valpo, Mercado Central

Last weekend we ventured out to the Mercado Central in Santiago on Saturday and to Valparaiso on the coast on Sunday. We took the subway to the market, which was no easy feat with a baby, her stroller, and all her crap. But the subway was pretty good-clean, with lots of shops in the stations (not just kiosks with gum and soda, but real shops). And having a cute blonde baby with you does help in getting a seat on a jampackedwithpeople train.

First we looked around the fish market, which also has restaurants and other stands, with herbs and some vegetables. It's an enclosed building, so the fish must be really fresh, or we would have died from the smell. We have seen dogs all over Santaigo, but no cats. It's because they're all hanging out at the fish market.


Behind the fish market building, there is a pedestrian mall where there are lots of stores, street performers, and people

just hanging out. We saw Barney (did NOT take Vivi to talk to him. Stupid purple dinosaur), a Barney knock-off, and some people dancing around promoting-religion? dancing? and handing out cookies (which we did not eat). Beyond this is the Plaza de Armas. It has lots of trees, a nice fountain in the middle, and giant, intrusive, orange light poles all over it. I thought it would be really nice without the light poles, but I'm guessing my input is not desired at this time. We wandered into the church (did not take pix, even though others were, because I think it's rude when people are praying), dipped Vivi's feet in the fountain, and said hello to Spider Man.

The mammals got in on the picture action by the fountain as well. Before we left, we realized that on the other side of the river, there is a vegetable and flower market. We wandered through briefly, but we were getting tired, and we still had to haul cute blonde baby and all her stuff back through the subway, and then home from the station.

Next time, we will explore further to see what we missed, and maybe get brave enough to buy some fish.

Water didn't look too gross, but didn't seem like a good idea to stick her hands in, which she would immediately put in her mouth.











Before she got freaked out and reached for mom.


















Mammals by fountain in Plaza de Armas.


















Vineyards along the highway on the drive from Santiago to Valparaiso. There are also TONS of yellow poppies, which remind us of California.











View of port/harbor from one of the hills in Valparaiso.













We took an acensor (outdoor elevator) up the hill. It was built in 1882. I think Vivi's expression means, "Uh, mom, are you sure this is safe?"










Valparaiso is all about walking around the hilly cobblestone streets and admiring the view and quirky buildings.












Having too much fun at lunch. We stopped at a great little restaurant on the edge of the hill, and had wonderful food. Coconut mahi mahi skewers, crab pastry, cold beer, pisco sours, and Lucema ice cream for dessert.










The view down a street in Valparaiso.

Cute blonde baby who is our ticket to a seat on the subway.

la comida

I have a lot of things to say about the people in Chile, but one thing's for sure: you cannot generally dislike a people who eat as much ice cream as they do. When I go out to run errands in the afternoon, people everywhere are carrying ice cream cones. Big ones. The ice cream is good, too. You can get the standard European crap that you buy on the street-junk on a stick w/ a chocolate coating, but there are also an abundance of ice cream shops like the ones in Italy-with seemingly neverending rows of huge vats of various flavors. The trick for me is to remember to pay before I spend a lot of time salivating over what I want, and then have the person doing the scooping point me to the register. But alas, the wait is worth it. They heap creamy, flavorful, colorful portions onto a waffle. And it doesn't melt fast, so you can spend time enjoying it. So people here may drive like assholes, and talk waayyy too quickly, but they do appreciate their helado. Which makes me fit in just a little bit.

There are not, however, a lot of pizza places, relatively speaking. And when you ask people what the best pizza is, you generally get the same answer: "Dominoes." Which made us cringe, because compared to a lot of pizza places in the US, Dominoes sucks. But here, it doesn't. The wings, which are kind of spicy, and kind of sweet, are wonderful. The toppings are heaped to the edge of the pizza, until there's almost no crust. And the ingredients are pretty fresh. So, live and learn. A restaurant that sucks somewhere else may actually be pretty good here. Although I'm not holding my breath about Pizza Hut.

Of course, we are making an effort to eat the local food as well. We drove through the mountains last weekend and sampled the homemade empanadas that can be found along the road, designated by white flags. We discovered that we do not like one of the common ones, called pino, which has ground beef, olives, eggs, onions, and spices. It just tastes weird. I think it's the olives, which aren't really to my liking. I go w/ the straight cheese empanadas. Fried-good. Cheese-good. Fried stuff w/ cheese-gooooood.

So I don't bore people half to death (or starvation), here's a quick summary of what else I have discovered about Chilean food: produce-good; bread-good (very fresh-you have to watch people waiting for the fresh bread to be put in the bins, and then stampede w/ them to get it); wine-good and cheap; pisco-ditto ($3 a bottle!); baby fo0d-not good-no veggies and sugar added to everything. I've had to go all granola and start making my own.

When I get back to the US next June, I am going to have a meal of: Diet Dr. Pepper, Chicago-style pizza, Calamata Olives, Bourbon, and cheesecake.

While you are gorging yourselves on Thanksgiving, please think of me, cause there's no Stove Top to be found, no pumpkins for pies, and certainly no giant, giant turkeys. But maybe I'll learn how to make empanadas, then go out for ice cream...

ibamos de santiago

For those of you who don't know, we have acquired the "mammals" over the years (the chicken was a cat toy, but then became an honorary mammal). We take them everywhere, and take amusing (to us, at least), pictures of them all over the world. They have been to Rome (took toga pix at Colloseum), Morocco (they rode the camels), Hawaii (to the telescope and hiking), London, Norway, Paris (top of Eiffel Tower), and all over the States.

Here the chicken is mocking the encaged birds who will never feel his joy of freedom.

Here are all the mammals in front of chicken cages. The Monkey almost always wears his red turban. The Rabbit did have a UCLA shirt, but we think it got lost in the move. He's moved on, anyway: "Go Dodgers!"










Stuartt and Vivi looking at the goats













Jenn and Vivi by the river (it was a bit chilly).













We took a drive into the Rio de Maipo valley this past Saturday to get out of the city for a few
hours. Unfortunately for us, the guidebook we have (Insight) has the worst maps ever, so it wasn't totally clear how to get there. We took the longest possible route, but eventually arrived in a canyon with a nice view of the river and of the high mountains.





We found a park to have lunch in, which seemed like it might have great potential (cafeteria, zoo, playground). So we paid our $10 (a bit steep!) and headed in to the zoo. It had chickens, goats, one llama, and some sheep (so not really a zoo, but Vivi did enjoy it). Then we went to the cafeteria, but right next to it there was a soccer field, with people playing soccer, and BLASTING music. Not exactly our idea of a tranquil mountain outting. (And it unfortunately reminded us of weekends in the parks in LA-a bunch of people playing soccer and blasting music:(





So we drove on, stopping in the main town in the canyon to buy fruit (for Vivi) and empanadas (for ourselves). We got the del horno (baked) kind, cheese and pino. We mistook pino for pina (pineapple) and were surprised when we got meat instead of fruit. Later Mr. Google told us that pino empanadas have ground beef, olives, cheese, hard-boiled egg, onions, and certain spices, like cumin. I do NOT like them, though I will eat them if excessively hungry. I prefer just plain ole queso ones. On the way back, we felt a bit cheated, because we only ate 2 of the 4 small ones we had bought, and didn't want the pino ones, and are relatively inexpensive, so we stopped to get more. This time, no horno, which means they were fried. They were made fresh, stuffed with cheese, crispy, hot, and very good.





We also stopped by the side of the road and walked down to the river. There was a manual cable car that you could sit it and pull yourself across in. I might have done it by myself but 1.) not w/ a baby and 2.) it was locked. So we just walked along the river a bit, and noticed that all the good stopping points for cars are also good stopping points for trash-dumpers. So one can enjoy the beauty of nature, as long as that person is willing to ignore the occassional slide of refuse down the hillside.





Our drive home was much easier, as we could figure out the map this time. We thought about stopping at some of the white flags (signal for homemade goods, such as empanadas, bread, or jams), but we were quite full of cheese empanadas, it was a cool, cloudy day, and it was getting cooler. So we headed for the warmth of our **home**.

case dulce casa en santiago

Spending some quality time w/ kitty cat (before she runs away). I'm trying to teach Vivi "nice," which I think she understands but doesn't like. She would rather grab fur. Poor Bunny. She knows that when I say, "Kitty cat!" she'd better look out for little hands.



















Exploring all that there is to see-outlets, heaters, and all.












Playing in the living room. It has a nice big window that Vivi likes to pound on and the cat likes to look out. We have used the 2 couches to make a baby-containing area. When she gets tired of being in there, she stands at the corner and hoots.












Hanging out in the front yard. A gardener comes every day to spruce things up.

















Bunny checking out yard of house we're staying in. It's actually part of a hotel, but it's nice to have more space.











Bunny reading up on doing some sightseeing.













Having desayuno at the hotel. Vivi likes to flirt w/ the waiters. I encourage it. It gives me time to get my coffee.











Eating oranges in the stroller before we bought a highchair. Very, very, very, very messy.

pix from the move

Bunny roaming in our (sadly) empty Pasadena apartment. It was pretty small, and not structurally perfect, but it was home for 7 years.











We crammed all of our stuff (that wasn't on the slow boat to Santiago) into our car, fit the carseat in, stuffed the cat under the seat, and headed to LAX. Vivi seemed to think it was just another car ride, but Bunny somehow knew that something more ominous than just a ride up the street to the vet loomed.











Vivi and Bunny (in black bag next to stroller) and all of our stuff, ready to be loaded on the plane (after we re-arranged stuff in our suitcases, we only had to pay $300 for extra and heavy bags).











Vivi took the opportunity during our 2 hour layover in Atlanta to roll around on the floor in the airport. We encouraged it. We were hoping she'd work off some energy and sleep during the 9 hour flight to Santiago.









The cat was not so exuberant at the airport. We offered her food and water, and she looked at us like she would rather kill us than eat. But, she made it okay, with the help of some kitty prozac.










Ah, the power and wonder of Benadryl. Others, in horror: "You drugged your baby?" Me, matter-of-factly: "Damn right. Read my lips: 9 hour flight"

Visiting the Persa

Last weekend we went to the Persa. It is a giant, giant, giant flea market that makes the Rose Bowl flea market look like a yard sale (though it's not in as nice an area). It is four blocks long, and two blocks wide. Warehouses, and some small shops, contain everything you could probably ever need. We mostly looked at furniture and clothes, and then decided that we wouldn't want anything made of cloth (couch, chairs, etc.) from there, because those things would smell like the place, which is a combination of dirty water, cooking food (people walk around w/ shopping carts that have big buckets of cooking oil, and they put a grill across the top of the shopping cart to cook meat), smoke, and lots and lots of people, some of whom bathe regularly. There are also tools, pets (we heard them but never saw them), electronics, car pieces, belts, shoes, toys, perfume, soaps, and, well, basically everything. You can also get a haircut, but the guy who does them doesn't sweep the floor until the end of the day, so you have to sit amidst piles of black hair on the floor.

Most things aren't market w/ a price, but some are. Bargaining is expected. We just walked around and took it all in. Vivi LOVED it, because there was so much for her to see. People talked to her constantly, and one lady even took her picture (should have charged her a quarter).

It was fun, and I'm sure we'll go back. It will probably take us the two whole years we are here to see the whole thing.