The first weekend that I arrived, my family bought me a couple bunches of grapes.
Sidenote: Vineyards are plentiful in this region and the grapes are so indescribably delicious that it is almost blasphemy to give them the same name as the American grape that I once knew and loved.
Anyhow, the quantity of grapes that were purchased was about 20 times the average grocery store prepackaged allotment. In fact, they had to be transferred via wooden crate. I hate to waste food and felt especially guilty that these grapes were bought especially for my "sampling." I resolved to eat my way through the entire crate. After a few days of excessive grape consumption, the word spread that I was a "fanática para las uvas" (a grape fanatic). Of course this resulted in me having to quadruple my intake to compensate for the now constant stream of gifted grapes from various students, colleagues, neighbors, and friends.
This past Tuesday (pay attention- the timeline here is critical), one of my students, whose family owns a vineyard outside of town, brought me 3 liters of freshly squeezed grape juice. This highly-coveted refreshment is locally known as "chi-cha." She told me to refrigerate it as soon as possible. When I got home, I did just that. Feeling pressure to not let a perishable item go to waste, I set to work. Each morning the rest of the week AND after school, my family and I served ourselves generous glasses of chi-cha. Friday afternoon before Ivanna and I hopped the bus for the city, I had one last sip and sealed the bottle.
After the weekend, Mondays and Tuesdays are quite busy. This particular Tuesday, however, the kids had eye exams in the morning and so I was able to sleep in a little after my family left for the day. Alone in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and saw the neglected chi-cha on the bottom shelf behind the milk. With a pang of guilt, I poured myself a glass. I estimated that if I could drink one more glass, I might be able to finish the bottle. Success! I chugged down the last of it, noting that it tasted a bit...off. There had definitely been some floaties in my glass so I decided to attribute the bite to the sediment that had settled at the bottom of the bottle.
I brushed my teeth, grabbed my bag, and locked the door. As I was walking to school, I was overcome by a funny feeling. I was dizzy and everything seemed a little fuzzy. I inexplicably fell off the curb when I was standing and waiting for a produce truck to pass. Despite the crisp morning air, I was glistening by the time I arrived at school and quickly shed my jacket. Per usual, I popped in to greet my madre in the infirmary on the way to class.
Immediately, she pulled me inside and asked me what was wrong. I looked in the mirror and saw that my cheeks were a bright feverish red. I told her that I felt off but didn't know why. Perhaps it was something that you ate, she said. I ran through my breakfast...coffee, toast, an apple...nothing out of the ordinary. "Oh, and two glasses of chi-cha," I added. She froze. She pushed me onto a chair, excused herself, and returned with the principal, my co-teacher, and the other nurse. My madre set to work immediately brewing some sort of special maté (herbal tea). The other three tried to stifle their laughter and feign an expression of concern.
I hate being left in the dark. "Can someone POR FAVOR explain what is going on!" My madre sat down, took my hand, and told me that she blamed herself for not explaining something. What what WHAT!? "Estás arriba de la pelota," she says. This Chilean slang loosely translates to, "You're drunk."
So, at 10am, sipping the steaming concoction that was handed to me, I had a much belated chi-cha tutorial. Chi-cha is only chi-cha (grape juice) for three or so days until it starts to ferment, at which point it becomes...wine. The process is sped up and intensified (higher alcohol content) if the chi-cha is capped and the gases of fermentation cannot escape (heh...oops).
Effectively, I consumed the equivalent 3-4 glasses of rather potent wine and then arrived at school to fulfill my duties as an academic leader and social role model. The cafeteria personnel whipped up some fried eggs and LOTS of "pan" (bread) for me. By 2pm, I was feeling back to my normal self again (save the splitting headache) and was cleared by the still-chuckling-principal to return to class. Any dignity that I managed to salvage after the toilet seat incident is no longer intact. Thanks a lot, chi-cha.
Sidenote: Vineyards are plentiful in this region and the grapes are so indescribably delicious that it is almost blasphemy to give them the same name as the American grape that I once knew and loved.
Anyhow, the quantity of grapes that were purchased was about 20 times the average grocery store prepackaged allotment. In fact, they had to be transferred via wooden crate. I hate to waste food and felt especially guilty that these grapes were bought especially for my "sampling." I resolved to eat my way through the entire crate. After a few days of excessive grape consumption, the word spread that I was a "fanática para las uvas" (a grape fanatic). Of course this resulted in me having to quadruple my intake to compensate for the now constant stream of gifted grapes from various students, colleagues, neighbors, and friends.
This past Tuesday (pay attention- the timeline here is critical), one of my students, whose family owns a vineyard outside of town, brought me 3 liters of freshly squeezed grape juice. This highly-coveted refreshment is locally known as "chi-cha." She told me to refrigerate it as soon as possible. When I got home, I did just that. Feeling pressure to not let a perishable item go to waste, I set to work. Each morning the rest of the week AND after school, my family and I served ourselves generous glasses of chi-cha. Friday afternoon before Ivanna and I hopped the bus for the city, I had one last sip and sealed the bottle.
After the weekend, Mondays and Tuesdays are quite busy. This particular Tuesday, however, the kids had eye exams in the morning and so I was able to sleep in a little after my family left for the day. Alone in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and saw the neglected chi-cha on the bottom shelf behind the milk. With a pang of guilt, I poured myself a glass. I estimated that if I could drink one more glass, I might be able to finish the bottle. Success! I chugged down the last of it, noting that it tasted a bit...off. There had definitely been some floaties in my glass so I decided to attribute the bite to the sediment that had settled at the bottom of the bottle.
I brushed my teeth, grabbed my bag, and locked the door. As I was walking to school, I was overcome by a funny feeling. I was dizzy and everything seemed a little fuzzy. I inexplicably fell off the curb when I was standing and waiting for a produce truck to pass. Despite the crisp morning air, I was glistening by the time I arrived at school and quickly shed my jacket. Per usual, I popped in to greet my madre in the infirmary on the way to class.
Immediately, she pulled me inside and asked me what was wrong. I looked in the mirror and saw that my cheeks were a bright feverish red. I told her that I felt off but didn't know why. Perhaps it was something that you ate, she said. I ran through my breakfast...coffee, toast, an apple...nothing out of the ordinary. "Oh, and two glasses of chi-cha," I added. She froze. She pushed me onto a chair, excused herself, and returned with the principal, my co-teacher, and the other nurse. My madre set to work immediately brewing some sort of special maté (herbal tea). The other three tried to stifle their laughter and feign an expression of concern.
I hate being left in the dark. "Can someone POR FAVOR explain what is going on!" My madre sat down, took my hand, and told me that she blamed herself for not explaining something. What what WHAT!? "Estás arriba de la pelota," she says. This Chilean slang loosely translates to, "You're drunk."
So, at 10am, sipping the steaming concoction that was handed to me, I had a much belated chi-cha tutorial. Chi-cha is only chi-cha (grape juice) for three or so days until it starts to ferment, at which point it becomes...wine. The process is sped up and intensified (higher alcohol content) if the chi-cha is capped and the gases of fermentation cannot escape (heh...oops).
Effectively, I consumed the equivalent 3-4 glasses of rather potent wine and then arrived at school to fulfill my duties as an academic leader and social role model. The cafeteria personnel whipped up some fried eggs and LOTS of "pan" (bread) for me. By 2pm, I was feeling back to my normal self again (save the splitting headache) and was cleared by the still-chuckling-principal to return to class. Any dignity that I managed to salvage after the toilet seat incident is no longer intact. Thanks a lot, chi-cha.
Your poor padre was probably saving those sediments for himself! Or maybe they were for the guy with the man apron. I'm sure he's had some week old chi-cha before!
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