We need to play some catch-up. I know that I have been slacking in a major way. The spotty posting can be attributed to: 1. My laziness, 2. A lack of blog-worthy material, and 3. The fact that I've been planning my wedding with my new Chilean fiancé. The first two are the reasons that I have chosen to write this entry in the following format, and the third was a lie.
This is a collection of semi-interesting things that I have noted/done/experienced in the past few months. They weren't quite worthy of an individual entry but hopefully the compilation will be mildly entertaining.
1. Every time I leave the house...be it for school, for a weekend trip, or to buy bread (a daily necessity here)...and my host mother is left alone with my unattended room, my things seem to mysteriously move in my absence. It's the strangest thing. All of the clothes in my closet refold themselves and sometimes switch places (including...ahem...my delicates, if you will). My shoes (all three pairs!) rearrange themselves and sometimes polish each other. Most affronting is that my clandestine jar of American peanut butter seems to be eating itself. Even though peanut butter is available here, it's just not the same. I am very opinionated when it comes to peanut butter...go crunchy or go home. However, in my particular case, it seems to be "go creamy or go home" because creamy is the only variety sold in Chilean super markets. That said, I have been self-rationing my crunchy American peanut butter. Upon realizing that I wasn't the only one consuming it, a brief wave of rage swept through me. Then, I immediately felt guilty and made a rash and regrettable decision. The jar resided in the family refrigerator for approximately 12 hours before the contents were exhausted and the empty container retired.
2. The other week in school, one of my students (who I am not particularly fond of), made her way over and informed me that I "should watch out" because I had died in her dream the night before. Not knowing quite how to respond, I patted her on the head and said, "Erm...gracias?" I shared the story about the arguable threat that I had received with my family that night. They reacted with genuine concern and asked me if I was feeling alright. Apparently, dreams are considered to be genuine omens and are taken quite seriously. In order to prevent the events of a bad dream from realizing, one has to relay The dream to the person(s) in danger. Fear not, I made it through my day...although I have made a personal note to avoid the creepy girl/Grim Reaper.
3. There must be something in the water here. That, or there are some strange hybrid of mosquitoes that don't seem to die off with colder temperatures. The mosquitoes that I have always been familiar with disappear with summer. The Chilean sancudo, however seems utterly resistant to the cold. The fly swagger on my bedside and I have become fast friends. Two to three times a night I am awoken by the unmistakable buzz of a hungry mosquito by my head. It has become second nature to flick the lamp switch, grab the fly swatter, hunt my prey, and return to bed within a matter of seconds. One night I was feeling lazy, I simply slept with the sheet over my head, leaving a small breathing hole. As a result, i went to school the next day with some very swollen, bug-bitten lips (I kid you not). Ladies, if you were considering a lip job, I have found a quick fix. My midnight mosquito murders and the fact that I accidentally caught a fly in my hand at the dinner table the other night (I was only joking, but I actually caught the darn thing, awing my Chilean family) has earned me yet another nickname. I am La Cazadora (The Hunter). Lovely.
4. Although this is technically a tangent of (3.), I wanted to keep these little blurbs short and sweet. A few weeks ago, I woke up one morning with itchy red bug bites. At first they were just on my legs. However, before I knew it, there were spots appearing on my stomach..and back...and arms...and my hands. It was quite alarming. I tried to wait it out and be a big girl about it but after about two weeks, I just couldn't take it anymore. I took a deep breath, went into the kitchen, pulled up my shirt, and showed my host mom my bug bites (?). Just as I expected, I got quite the earful ("...should have told me earlier!!!") and then she was off. I had to jog to keep up with her as she speeded off to the garage and started digging through a suspicious old garbage bin full of unmarked tin cans, paint brushes, and used cleaning supplies. I did not like where this was going. She pulled out an ancient can of Extra Strength Raid and marched into my bedroom. She set to work, dousing the walls, corners, floor, curtains, closet, etc. Did she stop there? Of course not. She peeled back my covers and began to spray my sheets with noxious insect repellent. (Note: Lots of American products make their way to Chile...meaning the packaging, instruction manuals, and most unfortunately WARNING labels are all in English.) That said, I suppose that she had missed the blatant, bold print, red sticker on the side of the can that explicitly read "WARNING: TOXIC. SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY UPON SKIN CONTACT OR INGESTION." My suppositions were confirmed when, to my horror, there was a brief cessation in the extermination process when she turned to me and gave me an "up-down." There was a few seconds where we seemed to be suspended in time. We stood there in silence and I saw her index finger still flexed menacingly on the Raid spray can. I read her mind and we both made a move at the same time. She raised her weapon as I was turning on my heeling and sprinting to the bathroom. I made it safely, shut the door and jammed the lock just as I heard the unmistakable clink of a metal Raid can slamming against the door. She jiggled the door handle, trying to coax me out, saying that the spray would surely kill the bugs on my skin as well. Half-laughing at the ridiculousness of her proposition, I argued back through the door crack that the can very clearly stated that the spray is poisonous to humans. Only when she promised to put down her weapon, and Ivanna gave me the "all-clear," did I emerge. I changed my sheets before going to bed that night and vowed never again to mention insect bites to a Chilean.
5. Earthquakes. There are lots of them. I have lost count of how many have shaken the Earth since I've been here, but it's a lot. Sometimes I sleep through them, sometimes I wake up (like the one that shook my bed Exorcist-style), and sometimes I am in school when the tremors rupture the power lines and we have no electricity for three days. In the latter instance, I find the Chileans' reactions to be a bit dramatic. In the event of a power outage, school is also cancelled...sometimes for 3 whole days like last time. I find this almost laughable as there is virtually no teaching technology used in the classroom, the lights are only turned on if the students are taking a test (sometimes not even then), and it's not like there is a heating system that will go down without power (a few of the classrooms have wood stoves although mine, unfortunately, is not one of them).
6. So I know that this is a male-dominated society and all...and that it is not my place to try and change their ways...but the other night I think my host father struck an all-time low. He had gotten home around 6 had my host mother serve him dinner in bed.
7. I'm concerned for the Chilean children. Any odd behavioral tendencies can surely be attributed that they are all raised on these two kids television programs: this and this. While we were all watching Barney and Sesame Street, these Chilean giant, singing, demented mascots and puppets were amassing a cult-like following.
8. My host father announced the other night that he was in the market for a new car. Good call, I thought in my head. He sent Ivanna and I outside with some maroon nail polish to paint over the many scratches on the car. The next morning he came home triumphantly waving a set of keys in the air. He said he traded cars with a colleague at work. I peeked out onto the street and saw a green Toyota in pretty decent condition. His poor colleague most definitely got the raw end of the stick shift. I doubt if I will ever fully understand the way business is conducted down here.
9. Piedras de la Cruz. This means "Stones of the Cross." Since being down here, I have heard of them often. It took me awhile to pfigure out that they were actually a real thing. There is a little town with a river that contains millions of the same this particular type of rock. The cross-section features a black and white cross and the stones are buffed and made into jewelry. The other weekend, Gloria, Dani, and I set off to find this town with the river with the stones. We did end up finding the right place but not before Gloria got pulled over for making a U-turn on a four lane highway. When the officer her accused her of the illegal U-turn, she said, "No I didn't." Very interesting and very ineffective tactic. Then she went through the normal steps of ticket-evasion ("Get over yourself, you're just a kid with a badge," and then, "My Dad's a cop," batting the eyelashes, threatening him, etc.). When she got down to the now all-too-familiar, "I was just trying to show this AMERICAN (head jerk toward the backseat) around our country," I was all too prepared. We had a homemade basket of empanadas. I smiled, acted bashful, offered him an empanada, and complimented his sunglasses. Success!! No ticket for Gloria, and we were on our way. Surprisingly, we did find a good number of "piedras de la cruz" while sifting through the riverbed. The highlight of the trip was first hearing the birth of (it sounded like a mix of Chewbacca and an alien being murdered), and then seeing, a newborn baby cow. What an exciting day, right!?
10. My host mom sneezed the other. I seized the opportunity to reprimand her for not drying her hair. Vengeance is sweet.
This is a collection of semi-interesting things that I have noted/done/experienced in the past few months. They weren't quite worthy of an individual entry but hopefully the compilation will be mildly entertaining.
1. Every time I leave the house...be it for school, for a weekend trip, or to buy bread (a daily necessity here)...and my host mother is left alone with my unattended room, my things seem to mysteriously move in my absence. It's the strangest thing. All of the clothes in my closet refold themselves and sometimes switch places (including...ahem...my delicates, if you will). My shoes (all three pairs!) rearrange themselves and sometimes polish each other. Most affronting is that my clandestine jar of American peanut butter seems to be eating itself. Even though peanut butter is available here, it's just not the same. I am very opinionated when it comes to peanut butter...go crunchy or go home. However, in my particular case, it seems to be "go creamy or go home" because creamy is the only variety sold in Chilean super markets. That said, I have been self-rationing my crunchy American peanut butter. Upon realizing that I wasn't the only one consuming it, a brief wave of rage swept through me. Then, I immediately felt guilty and made a rash and regrettable decision. The jar resided in the family refrigerator for approximately 12 hours before the contents were exhausted and the empty container retired.
2. The other week in school, one of my students (who I am not particularly fond of), made her way over and informed me that I "should watch out" because I had died in her dream the night before. Not knowing quite how to respond, I patted her on the head and said, "Erm...gracias?" I shared the story about the arguable threat that I had received with my family that night. They reacted with genuine concern and asked me if I was feeling alright. Apparently, dreams are considered to be genuine omens and are taken quite seriously. In order to prevent the events of a bad dream from realizing, one has to relay The dream to the person(s) in danger. Fear not, I made it through my day...although I have made a personal note to avoid the creepy girl/Grim Reaper.
3. There must be something in the water here. That, or there are some strange hybrid of mosquitoes that don't seem to die off with colder temperatures. The mosquitoes that I have always been familiar with disappear with summer. The Chilean sancudo, however seems utterly resistant to the cold. The fly swagger on my bedside and I have become fast friends. Two to three times a night I am awoken by the unmistakable buzz of a hungry mosquito by my head. It has become second nature to flick the lamp switch, grab the fly swatter, hunt my prey, and return to bed within a matter of seconds. One night I was feeling lazy, I simply slept with the sheet over my head, leaving a small breathing hole. As a result, i went to school the next day with some very swollen, bug-bitten lips (I kid you not). Ladies, if you were considering a lip job, I have found a quick fix. My midnight mosquito murders and the fact that I accidentally caught a fly in my hand at the dinner table the other night (I was only joking, but I actually caught the darn thing, awing my Chilean family) has earned me yet another nickname. I am La Cazadora (The Hunter). Lovely.
4. Although this is technically a tangent of (3.), I wanted to keep these little blurbs short and sweet. A few weeks ago, I woke up one morning with itchy red bug bites. At first they were just on my legs. However, before I knew it, there were spots appearing on my stomach..and back...and arms...and my hands. It was quite alarming. I tried to wait it out and be a big girl about it but after about two weeks, I just couldn't take it anymore. I took a deep breath, went into the kitchen, pulled up my shirt, and showed my host mom my bug bites (?). Just as I expected, I got quite the earful ("...should have told me earlier!!!") and then she was off. I had to jog to keep up with her as she speeded off to the garage and started digging through a suspicious old garbage bin full of unmarked tin cans, paint brushes, and used cleaning supplies. I did not like where this was going. She pulled out an ancient can of Extra Strength Raid and marched into my bedroom. She set to work, dousing the walls, corners, floor, curtains, closet, etc. Did she stop there? Of course not. She peeled back my covers and began to spray my sheets with noxious insect repellent. (Note: Lots of American products make their way to Chile...meaning the packaging, instruction manuals, and most unfortunately WARNING labels are all in English.) That said, I suppose that she had missed the blatant, bold print, red sticker on the side of the can that explicitly read "WARNING: TOXIC. SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY UPON SKIN CONTACT OR INGESTION." My suppositions were confirmed when, to my horror, there was a brief cessation in the extermination process when she turned to me and gave me an "up-down." There was a few seconds where we seemed to be suspended in time. We stood there in silence and I saw her index finger still flexed menacingly on the Raid spray can. I read her mind and we both made a move at the same time. She raised her weapon as I was turning on my heeling and sprinting to the bathroom. I made it safely, shut the door and jammed the lock just as I heard the unmistakable clink of a metal Raid can slamming against the door. She jiggled the door handle, trying to coax me out, saying that the spray would surely kill the bugs on my skin as well. Half-laughing at the ridiculousness of her proposition, I argued back through the door crack that the can very clearly stated that the spray is poisonous to humans. Only when she promised to put down her weapon, and Ivanna gave me the "all-clear," did I emerge. I changed my sheets before going to bed that night and vowed never again to mention insect bites to a Chilean.
5. Earthquakes. There are lots of them. I have lost count of how many have shaken the Earth since I've been here, but it's a lot. Sometimes I sleep through them, sometimes I wake up (like the one that shook my bed Exorcist-style), and sometimes I am in school when the tremors rupture the power lines and we have no electricity for three days. In the latter instance, I find the Chileans' reactions to be a bit dramatic. In the event of a power outage, school is also cancelled...sometimes for 3 whole days like last time. I find this almost laughable as there is virtually no teaching technology used in the classroom, the lights are only turned on if the students are taking a test (sometimes not even then), and it's not like there is a heating system that will go down without power (a few of the classrooms have wood stoves although mine, unfortunately, is not one of them).
6. So I know that this is a male-dominated society and all...and that it is not my place to try and change their ways...but the other night I think my host father struck an all-time low. He had gotten home around 6 had my host mother serve him dinner in bed.
7. I'm concerned for the Chilean children. Any odd behavioral tendencies can surely be attributed that they are all raised on these two kids television programs: this and this. While we were all watching Barney and Sesame Street, these Chilean giant, singing, demented mascots and puppets were amassing a cult-like following.
8. My host father announced the other night that he was in the market for a new car. Good call, I thought in my head. He sent Ivanna and I outside with some maroon nail polish to paint over the many scratches on the car. The next morning he came home triumphantly waving a set of keys in the air. He said he traded cars with a colleague at work. I peeked out onto the street and saw a green Toyota in pretty decent condition. His poor colleague most definitely got the raw end of the stick shift. I doubt if I will ever fully understand the way business is conducted down here.
9. Piedras de la Cruz. This means "Stones of the Cross." Since being down here, I have heard of them often. It took me awhile to pfigure out that they were actually a real thing. There is a little town with a river that contains millions of the same this particular type of rock. The cross-section features a black and white cross and the stones are buffed and made into jewelry. The other weekend, Gloria, Dani, and I set off to find this town with the river with the stones. We did end up finding the right place but not before Gloria got pulled over for making a U-turn on a four lane highway. When the officer her accused her of the illegal U-turn, she said, "No I didn't." Very interesting and very ineffective tactic. Then she went through the normal steps of ticket-evasion ("Get over yourself, you're just a kid with a badge," and then, "My Dad's a cop," batting the eyelashes, threatening him, etc.). When she got down to the now all-too-familiar, "I was just trying to show this AMERICAN (head jerk toward the backseat) around our country," I was all too prepared. We had a homemade basket of empanadas. I smiled, acted bashful, offered him an empanada, and complimented his sunglasses. Success!! No ticket for Gloria, and we were on our way. Surprisingly, we did find a good number of "piedras de la cruz" while sifting through the riverbed. The highlight of the trip was first hearing the birth of (it sounded like a mix of Chewbacca and an alien being murdered), and then seeing, a newborn baby cow. What an exciting day, right!?
10. My host mom sneezed the other. I seized the opportunity to reprimand her for not drying her hair. Vengeance is sweet.
I love number 10! I'm sort of freaked out about your bites. Bed bugs? I'm checking all the bed bug registries as we drive back to MN! Call me when you're stateside!
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