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,
Monday, December 29, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, November 10, 2008
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...
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...
Monday, October 27, 2008
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.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
