Talk about a small world. Sommer and I are waiting at the bus station for a man, who we think is named Berd, to come pick us up and drive us to his family's cow farm. Each car that drives by could be him, but they all zoom around the parking lot and speed off. Finally, one little hatchback pulls up to the curb and turns off the engine. A skinny man with a long pony tail gets out of the car and raises both hands high "allo!"
"So, where are you from?" he asks us as more than 10 flies perch on his legs.
"America." He waits expectantly, "A state called New Mexico" I elaborate.
"Ahh yes, New Mexico! My aunt lives there!" I turn back to look at Sommer in disbelief. He explains that she met a soldier who was in Frankfurt during the war and she moved back with him and settled in Albuquerque. What's more, is that Bert (named after Bertolt Brecht), went to visit her in Albuquerque in 1980 and thus already knew our city, its street names and all general geography of the homeland. We spent the next ten minutes marveling at the chances and at what a small world we live in.
Sommer and I found ourselves in this position due to lack of planning and adventurous spirits. We had a week to kill in Frankfurt but nothing to do and a desire to not spend any money (quite difficult when you have no place to stay, no fridge, and all museums cost at least 5 euros. There are only so many park naps a girl can take!). So we decided to Wwoof. We hopped online, paid the fee, and started looking up farms near Frankfurt that would be easy to get to and would let us come for only a few days. That was Tuesday and on Wednesday we were on a train to Marburg, Germany. Bert had answered the phone and in the English he could manage told us about his family, his farm, what they could offer us, and how to get to the farm. On the train ride there Sommer and I had a brief moment of doubt, in which we questioned what exactly we'd gotten ourselves into. Thankfully though, our doubts were quelled the moment we met Bert and then even more so the moment we arrived at the farm.
I only spent two days with them but they were thought provoking, glorious, and fun. Bert and Sylvia were versed in politics, cow facts, and hospitality. They welcomed us into their home without question. We ate richly, even though Bert talk us how hard times are now for family farms. We slept comfortably in a caravan that lived behind their house. It was an old trailer painted pink and yellow. It was a glorious abode. Our days were spent, feeding the cows, moving them to new pastures, cleaning out the barn, picking beans, picking sprouts off of last year's potato crop (over 2 thousand potatoes!) and cooking or cutting. It was simple and easy work. Our days were filled with coffee breaks in which Bert would teach us something new about the world, about farming, or tell us about his travels. We discussed the holocaust and traveling with Sylvia. After meals, Lutz, their youngest son, would quiz us on capitals of countries.
I don't know when but I would love to return there someday and get to know them even better. And how knows? Maybe Bert will come visit his aunt and get to see how Albuquerque has changed!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
A Little Bit of Italia, A LIttle Bit Out oF Order-ah
So I am fairly positive that there is no such thing as a Venitian. I don’t think a single person in Venice is actually from Venice. This may give the idea that the city is vacant, no locals, somewhat of a dreary place. On the contrary though, the city is more stuffed than a calzone. Before Claire and I arrived I read that Venice is one of the most visited cities in the world. That made perfect sense to me because of what a unique city it is, but I had no idea how many people are in the most visited city in the world. Tourist-wise Venice is awful. You can’t go anywhere without running into a traffic jam, bumping into someone, or bein forced to move like a pencil through the narrow passageways. That said, minus all the humans, Venice is stunning.
Why aren’t there more cities in the world like this? It looks just like I thought it would and yet so different. Every 25-50 feet you have to cross a bridge, take a forced left or climb some stairs. The city is a maze- making it impossible to find anything on purpose and making every discovery an accident. Claire and I tried to retrace our steps to find a shop one day but we didn’t have the foggiest idea how to get back. The storeowner had given us a map but that was like giving a blind person a popsicle- a really nice gesture but a useless directional tool. We didn’t even bother checking the map. Instead though we wandered down some new streets in the direction of the store, ended up over shooting it, and then we emerged on the opposite side from where we’d found it the day before. Big name brand stores like Cartier and Timberland served as important reference points with their intrusive gold and black lettered signs. While small boutiques and tourist shops stocked with “NO FALSE” Venetian glass and leather stores made the quest more quaint but not more enjoyable.
For better or worse we booked our stay in Venice only days before we actually arrived and so we never actually stayed on the island. Instead we stayed in small towns around it and on an sweet island called Lido. It was initially disappointing but ended up being a blessing because we probably would have come back to France bald as a result of pulling every last hair out due to the frustratingly crowded streets.
As one point, for a bit of lightness and a respite from the crowds, Claire and I purchased a magical looking chocolate and powdered sugar covered treat. We exited the store and sought refuge in an abandoned passageway. Now to make this story make more sense, you have to understand that Venice is filled with delicious looking food. The people crowding the streets are never without a cone of gelato, a tasty looking wrap, a piece of pizza or something delicious in hand. More than once I found myself stopped in my tracks, gawking at what a couple had on their plates, until a second later I would remember that I am not invisible and that they could see me. At that point, I would hurry off to salivate in a more appropriate location. So many times though we would see a delicious looking something in a small boys hand and then search for it in vain. “Can’t I just sneak over and take a bite?” I asked Claire on more than one occasion. “It seems unfair that they get to eat that all to themselves and we don’t even get one bite.” Two or three times I came close because the food looked So. Damn. Good. Sadly for my stomach and pleasure center though, I restrained myself every time. Finally though, it was my turn to have a delicious something that no one else could eat. The first bite was so amazing that I closed my eyes so I could fully enjoy every subtle flavor and texture this chocolate pastry had to offer me. Claire, laughing at my overreaction (highly appropriate reaction) to the pastry, stepped to the side on me to photography my delight. When I opened my eyes to sink my teeth into the next bite, Claire and I were no longer alone in the alley. There was a middle aged Italian man inches from my face attempting to bite into my pastry. The sheer shock of it propelled a scream from the depths of my stomach. This man, only making the same joke Claire and I had been making for the past three days, was caught completely off guard. He quickly scooted off and rounded the corner but not before turning back one last time to laugh at us and with us, as Claire and I were doubled over, each chuckle snowing powdered sugar on the sinking streets of Venice.
Why aren’t there more cities in the world like this? It looks just like I thought it would and yet so different. Every 25-50 feet you have to cross a bridge, take a forced left or climb some stairs. The city is a maze- making it impossible to find anything on purpose and making every discovery an accident. Claire and I tried to retrace our steps to find a shop one day but we didn’t have the foggiest idea how to get back. The storeowner had given us a map but that was like giving a blind person a popsicle- a really nice gesture but a useless directional tool. We didn’t even bother checking the map. Instead though we wandered down some new streets in the direction of the store, ended up over shooting it, and then we emerged on the opposite side from where we’d found it the day before. Big name brand stores like Cartier and Timberland served as important reference points with their intrusive gold and black lettered signs. While small boutiques and tourist shops stocked with “NO FALSE” Venetian glass and leather stores made the quest more quaint but not more enjoyable.
For better or worse we booked our stay in Venice only days before we actually arrived and so we never actually stayed on the island. Instead we stayed in small towns around it and on an sweet island called Lido. It was initially disappointing but ended up being a blessing because we probably would have come back to France bald as a result of pulling every last hair out due to the frustratingly crowded streets.
As one point, for a bit of lightness and a respite from the crowds, Claire and I purchased a magical looking chocolate and powdered sugar covered treat. We exited the store and sought refuge in an abandoned passageway. Now to make this story make more sense, you have to understand that Venice is filled with delicious looking food. The people crowding the streets are never without a cone of gelato, a tasty looking wrap, a piece of pizza or something delicious in hand. More than once I found myself stopped in my tracks, gawking at what a couple had on their plates, until a second later I would remember that I am not invisible and that they could see me. At that point, I would hurry off to salivate in a more appropriate location. So many times though we would see a delicious looking something in a small boys hand and then search for it in vain. “Can’t I just sneak over and take a bite?” I asked Claire on more than one occasion. “It seems unfair that they get to eat that all to themselves and we don’t even get one bite.” Two or three times I came close because the food looked So. Damn. Good. Sadly for my stomach and pleasure center though, I restrained myself every time. Finally though, it was my turn to have a delicious something that no one else could eat. The first bite was so amazing that I closed my eyes so I could fully enjoy every subtle flavor and texture this chocolate pastry had to offer me. Claire, laughing at my overreaction (highly appropriate reaction) to the pastry, stepped to the side on me to photography my delight. When I opened my eyes to sink my teeth into the next bite, Claire and I were no longer alone in the alley. There was a middle aged Italian man inches from my face attempting to bite into my pastry. The sheer shock of it propelled a scream from the depths of my stomach. This man, only making the same joke Claire and I had been making for the past three days, was caught completely off guard. He quickly scooted off and rounded the corner but not before turning back one last time to laugh at us and with us, as Claire and I were doubled over, each chuckle snowing powdered sugar on the sinking streets of Venice.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Beer in Berlin
Well I can't really remember why I was so crazy about coming here because I know nothing about this city but I find myself here now and I'm pretty happy about that. Heartbroken that Claire has gone home but excited about something new.
I left Paris at 9am and got into Berlin at 5:30pm. The train was easy. I'm not sure why but long day trains induce in me the greatest state of sleepiness. I got a full nights rest last night but still found myself dozing off every ten minutes. And not just that but I could not keep my eyes open. The only reason I kept waking up was that I thought I heard people speaking English but that was just my brain pretending to understand German (even though I don't, not even a little bit).
I was only vaguely sure of where to go once I got off the train but a few lucky guess and generous Germans' finger points led me to the door of the All in Hostel. The staff were really nice when I got to there which was a relief after our last hostel where they were about as pleasant as diarrhea. I dropped my stuff off in the dorm (a 6 bed all girls dorm) (for the record 3 nights in Berlin is roughly equivalent to one night in Paris) and then came back into the main area to do some interwebbing. I only had a big bill and they didn't have much change. So, to make my 1 euro purchase less of an inconvenience, I decided to buy a beer from them. It was that same monks beer Claire and I had tried and enjoyed greatly in France. The cool thing was though that the receptionist told me that it was supposed to be drunk out of a glass. He said I could borrow one from the breakfast area. So he took me upstairs to the kitchen and showed me how to pour that specific type of beer which a Monk on the label(it has a higher yeast content or something) He explained that all the monks have to do is pray so to ward off boredom they drink a lot of beer. I have to tell you that drinking it out of a glass and pouring it in that specific way made it 10x tastier. I've only been here two hours but I already get the feeling that good things are going to happen in Berlin:)
I left Paris at 9am and got into Berlin at 5:30pm. The train was easy. I'm not sure why but long day trains induce in me the greatest state of sleepiness. I got a full nights rest last night but still found myself dozing off every ten minutes. And not just that but I could not keep my eyes open. The only reason I kept waking up was that I thought I heard people speaking English but that was just my brain pretending to understand German (even though I don't, not even a little bit).
I was only vaguely sure of where to go once I got off the train but a few lucky guess and generous Germans' finger points led me to the door of the All in Hostel. The staff were really nice when I got to there which was a relief after our last hostel where they were about as pleasant as diarrhea. I dropped my stuff off in the dorm (a 6 bed all girls dorm) (for the record 3 nights in Berlin is roughly equivalent to one night in Paris) and then came back into the main area to do some interwebbing. I only had a big bill and they didn't have much change. So, to make my 1 euro purchase less of an inconvenience, I decided to buy a beer from them. It was that same monks beer Claire and I had tried and enjoyed greatly in France. The cool thing was though that the receptionist told me that it was supposed to be drunk out of a glass. He said I could borrow one from the breakfast area. So he took me upstairs to the kitchen and showed me how to pour that specific type of beer which a Monk on the label(it has a higher yeast content or something) He explained that all the monks have to do is pray so to ward off boredom they drink a lot of beer. I have to tell you that drinking it out of a glass and pouring it in that specific way made it 10x tastier. I've only been here two hours but I already get the feeling that good things are going to happen in Berlin:)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Paris Je T'aime
I get it. Now I see why everyone loves Europe so much. Lisbon? Amazing. Paris? Enchanting. Nice? I don't even have time to tell you because I'm already at the beach.
Claire and I met up in the Charles de Gaulle. It was a hilarious reunion because we both arrived sleep deprived, hungry, and were both overjoyed at the sight of each other. We immediately recounted stories of our journeys: falling asleep of the Portuguese man in the seat next to us, language barriers, mistaken drink orders, nearly missed flights, etc. By the time we finished I was laughing so hard I was crying. If it had been a movie you would have seen, perhaps from an areal view, that as Claire and I warmly embraced and exchanged laughter we were in a sea of very happy but laughless French people. It would come to be a theme of our trip. We find ourselves doubled over laughing, laughing so loud it echos off the wall and down the street (only at outdoor cafes) or just chuckling at a funny something. But it is as if we are the only ones who know how to laugh. It's true that sometimes I see people laughing at us, but I don't think that counts. Really though, I have yet to see a stranger on this vacation laugh of his or her own accord. It would make more sense to me if the stereotype about French people being rude held true, but it doesn't so it doesn't.
I've always been told that the French were rude. Fact of life just like the fact that the sky is blue and Shakira is awesome- no way around it. But, on the contrary, I have found the French to be an utterly delightful bunch. Kind, helpful, very much French speaking (they almost always respond to us in French if we start in French). My mom told me something she'd heard years back which was that the better your French accent is the nice the French are to you. False. As long as you're trying, they're happy.
"How do you say this word?" We pointed to the check.
"L'addition"
"La dissition!" I said confidently.
"L'addition!"
"La dissition." I said this time more unclear of what she was saying.
This went back and fourth three times until she smiled, shrugged, and wrote it on our paper menu.
"Ohhh why thank you cute French waitress"
Claire and I met up in the Charles de Gaulle. It was a hilarious reunion because we both arrived sleep deprived, hungry, and were both overjoyed at the sight of each other. We immediately recounted stories of our journeys: falling asleep of the Portuguese man in the seat next to us, language barriers, mistaken drink orders, nearly missed flights, etc. By the time we finished I was laughing so hard I was crying. If it had been a movie you would have seen, perhaps from an areal view, that as Claire and I warmly embraced and exchanged laughter we were in a sea of very happy but laughless French people. It would come to be a theme of our trip. We find ourselves doubled over laughing, laughing so loud it echos off the wall and down the street (only at outdoor cafes) or just chuckling at a funny something. But it is as if we are the only ones who know how to laugh. It's true that sometimes I see people laughing at us, but I don't think that counts. Really though, I have yet to see a stranger on this vacation laugh of his or her own accord. It would make more sense to me if the stereotype about French people being rude held true, but it doesn't so it doesn't.
I've always been told that the French were rude. Fact of life just like the fact that the sky is blue and Shakira is awesome- no way around it. But, on the contrary, I have found the French to be an utterly delightful bunch. Kind, helpful, very much French speaking (they almost always respond to us in French if we start in French). My mom told me something she'd heard years back which was that the better your French accent is the nice the French are to you. False. As long as you're trying, they're happy.
"How do you say this word?" We pointed to the check.
"L'addition"
"La dissition!" I said confidently.
"L'addition!"
"La dissition." I said this time more unclear of what she was saying.
This went back and fourth three times until she smiled, shrugged, and wrote it on our paper menu.
"Ohhh why thank you cute French waitress"
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The City of Red Roofs
Well there is just no way to describe exactly how much I love Lisbon. This city is incredible. The people, the buildings, the trees, the nightlife, everything.
I was a little worried when I first arrived because the directions to the hostal were written by someone who spoke English as a second language. It had no explicit directions like ªturn right at this sign.ª Instead it said things like ªRight on left side Tattoo shopª and ªThe road splits keep going.ª So I decided that I would just try and worst case I would hail a cab. Cleverly, the directions mentioned nothing about the giant hill it was located on top of. So I climbed and climbed and climbed. Luckily scaling the hill was easier because I was so distracted looking for landmarks. Just when I was about to give up and go back I saw it. I booked my hostal the night before I got on the plane to come to Portugal and it was the cheapest one so I wasnºt expecting much. To my surprise though it has been delightful- one of the best hostals Iºve ever stayed in. The staff is so kind and helpful and I met some amazing people. Not to mention it has a view that looks out over the whole city and a balcony from which we can sit and admire it.
Generally in life there is not a whole lot I am 100% certain of. I have my opions about things but I generally feel that true facts are hard to come by. I can say though, as a fact, that Lisbon is the most beautiful city Iºve ever seen. Usually when Iºm in the city, even though I feel invigorated by it, I canºt help but view every median incasing grass or trees as trapping the nature (that would occur naturally if we hadnºt created all these buildings) instead of fostering it. But in Lisbon I donºt see it that way. Thereºs just as much cement but somehow the city seems more like a work of art to me than a nature trap. I was stunned to note as I flew in that, almost without fail, every building in the city has a pitched, orangey-red roof. Every building is either painted a striking color or is covered (I mean from top to bottom) in bright, breautiful, intricate tiles. I canºt even get over it. It never gets old looking at these three story buildings that are totally adorned in four inch by four inch tiles. Itºs breathtaking (or maybe thatºs just the hills I was climbing up while admiring the buildings...). And if all that werenºt enough, every building as the quaintest little balconies. Itºs like something out of a dream.
I soon found out that hills like the one that leads to the hostal are common. In that way Lisbon is like San Fransico because itºs bumpy as the back of a stegosaurus. Except for the main roads, every road and sidewalk I walked on was coblestone. It is beautiful but maddeningly slipperly. About three times a day my feet would take me for a ride as we slipped down a hill. I am tempted to say that I have yet to fall, but I donºt want to jinks is because I still have one more day. In the five days Iºve been here Iºve seen someone cleaning the sidewalk or street somewhere. The first day I passed a worker using what looked like a jackhammer. It was hooked up to a little metal cart that was buzzing with the words ªGUM BUSTERSª across the side of it in big red letters. I laughed out loud. While I appreciate the thought, I almost wish there were more gum on the sidewalk so I wouldnºt slip so often!
Now the people here are something else. Keep in mind that I flew in from Boston, a city of nice but very surly people, into a city where the people have a warmth Iºve never quite experienced before. I was delighted to find how kind the people were in Chile but in Lisbon itºs something else. When I talked to someone they would look me in the eye, even if we only exchanged a one word greeting. And most of the time it felt like they were really looking at me, really seeing me. I canºt remember the last time I felt that in the states. It filled me with warmth like a big cup of coco. Today when I was as the post office, after I had waited in line a half hour, the cashier informed me that they didnºt accept foreign cards. I was somewhat crushed and I let out a sigh like I had been literally crushed by the ceiling. I shrugged and was about to walk away when she told me, ªIºll wait. Go to the bank around the corner and I will wait.ª I turned around and dashed through the crowd of ten people waiting to mail stuff. I went as fast as I could which meant of course that I messed up my pin twice and punched in the wrong amount once. When I came back in she was waiting for me with my pile of postcards and stamps ready to go.
Iºve been trying to save money by not eating out but tonight I treated myself to a Portuguese meal for my last night. I decided on fish since that is Portugalºs specialty. I tried to ask the waiter what to order. He happy responded, only I didnºt understand a word he was saying. I opted for swordfish, something Iºve never tried. It came with a boiled potato and a small salad. It was absolutely delicious. In Portugal they bring you lots of treats before your meals starts but then whatever you eat they charge you for. Thankfully Iºd read about it in my guidebook otherwise I would have had to pay for cheese, bread, and a smattering of spreads. I didnºt feel bad about passing on the cheese because tomorrow Iºm going to Paris and I can only imagine what they have to offer me...
I was a little worried when I first arrived because the directions to the hostal were written by someone who spoke English as a second language. It had no explicit directions like ªturn right at this sign.ª Instead it said things like ªRight on left side Tattoo shopª and ªThe road splits keep going.ª So I decided that I would just try and worst case I would hail a cab. Cleverly, the directions mentioned nothing about the giant hill it was located on top of. So I climbed and climbed and climbed. Luckily scaling the hill was easier because I was so distracted looking for landmarks. Just when I was about to give up and go back I saw it. I booked my hostal the night before I got on the plane to come to Portugal and it was the cheapest one so I wasnºt expecting much. To my surprise though it has been delightful- one of the best hostals Iºve ever stayed in. The staff is so kind and helpful and I met some amazing people. Not to mention it has a view that looks out over the whole city and a balcony from which we can sit and admire it.
Generally in life there is not a whole lot I am 100% certain of. I have my opions about things but I generally feel that true facts are hard to come by. I can say though, as a fact, that Lisbon is the most beautiful city Iºve ever seen. Usually when Iºm in the city, even though I feel invigorated by it, I canºt help but view every median incasing grass or trees as trapping the nature (that would occur naturally if we hadnºt created all these buildings) instead of fostering it. But in Lisbon I donºt see it that way. Thereºs just as much cement but somehow the city seems more like a work of art to me than a nature trap. I was stunned to note as I flew in that, almost without fail, every building in the city has a pitched, orangey-red roof. Every building is either painted a striking color or is covered (I mean from top to bottom) in bright, breautiful, intricate tiles. I canºt even get over it. It never gets old looking at these three story buildings that are totally adorned in four inch by four inch tiles. Itºs breathtaking (or maybe thatºs just the hills I was climbing up while admiring the buildings...). And if all that werenºt enough, every building as the quaintest little balconies. Itºs like something out of a dream.
I soon found out that hills like the one that leads to the hostal are common. In that way Lisbon is like San Fransico because itºs bumpy as the back of a stegosaurus. Except for the main roads, every road and sidewalk I walked on was coblestone. It is beautiful but maddeningly slipperly. About three times a day my feet would take me for a ride as we slipped down a hill. I am tempted to say that I have yet to fall, but I donºt want to jinks is because I still have one more day. In the five days Iºve been here Iºve seen someone cleaning the sidewalk or street somewhere. The first day I passed a worker using what looked like a jackhammer. It was hooked up to a little metal cart that was buzzing with the words ªGUM BUSTERSª across the side of it in big red letters. I laughed out loud. While I appreciate the thought, I almost wish there were more gum on the sidewalk so I wouldnºt slip so often!
Now the people here are something else. Keep in mind that I flew in from Boston, a city of nice but very surly people, into a city where the people have a warmth Iºve never quite experienced before. I was delighted to find how kind the people were in Chile but in Lisbon itºs something else. When I talked to someone they would look me in the eye, even if we only exchanged a one word greeting. And most of the time it felt like they were really looking at me, really seeing me. I canºt remember the last time I felt that in the states. It filled me with warmth like a big cup of coco. Today when I was as the post office, after I had waited in line a half hour, the cashier informed me that they didnºt accept foreign cards. I was somewhat crushed and I let out a sigh like I had been literally crushed by the ceiling. I shrugged and was about to walk away when she told me, ªIºll wait. Go to the bank around the corner and I will wait.ª I turned around and dashed through the crowd of ten people waiting to mail stuff. I went as fast as I could which meant of course that I messed up my pin twice and punched in the wrong amount once. When I came back in she was waiting for me with my pile of postcards and stamps ready to go.
Iºve been trying to save money by not eating out but tonight I treated myself to a Portuguese meal for my last night. I decided on fish since that is Portugalºs specialty. I tried to ask the waiter what to order. He happy responded, only I didnºt understand a word he was saying. I opted for swordfish, something Iºve never tried. It came with a boiled potato and a small salad. It was absolutely delicious. In Portugal they bring you lots of treats before your meals starts but then whatever you eat they charge you for. Thankfully Iºd read about it in my guidebook otherwise I would have had to pay for cheese, bread, and a smattering of spreads. I didnºt feel bad about passing on the cheese because tomorrow Iºm going to Paris and I can only imagine what they have to offer me...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
And We're Off!!
My trip officially began on Saturday when I flew to Chicago to spend one night with my sister. We had a delightful timing doing all sorts of sisterly things. We had as much sisterly bonding as you can possibly do in 23 hours. Then, a split second later I was back at the airport catching a flight to Boston. It was a similar story but it was friend bonding and instead of just meeting one friend like I expected I got to see four! One of my friends was visiting Boston from Philadelphia and then three of my friends came down from Montreal. I knew they were coming to the states for the 4th but I thought I wasn’t going to be able to see them. Lucky me they surprised me moments after I arrived at the house where I was staying. I shared my surprise with them by screaming. A lot. In fact, I think the whole neighborhood shared my surprise. What can I say though? It’s always exciting to see people you like. Unfortunately I wasn’t for long because by 3 the next day I was schlepping my bags to the airport to get to Lisbon via Amsterdam. A word of advice, when traveling by plane it helps to know what airlines you’re flying, where your layover is, and to be early. I however did not stick to those basic guidelines and so a mild panic ensued.
“Hi can you help me? I don’t see my flight on the board”
“Where are you flying today?” she generously responds when I half expected her to tell me she was busy.
“Lisbon”
“Oooo” she made the noise that people make when they watch someone on TV get hurt. “There are no flights to Lisbon today”
“Ha. Haha. Hahaha.” I laughed like a crazy person. I momentarily considered if I were a crazy person and if I’d made it all up. My rapid mental crazy scan came back negative and I tried again.
“Umm but I’m flying to Lisbon. I’m making a connection, could that be why it’s not on the board?”
“Yes, where are you connecting? She cocks her head at me like she were looking at a rare South American frog.
“Ha. Haha. Haha” More crazy person laughter escapes my mouth. I do a mental scan this time looking not for craziness but for flight information. Lisbon? Duh, no. Paris? Nope. Frankfurt? Close but no cigar. Dublin? Yes, yes! I looked at quite a few flights that flew through Dublin! But alas no, I purchased none of those tickets. Then it dawned on me. It was so simple, like the answer was hiding in plain sight. “Amsterdam” I threw my words at her like Steve Carrell. Like projectile vomit.
A few busy clicks and finger taps later and she was redirecting me to the other side of the airport. Terminal A. The first place the shuttle had stopped twenty minutes earlier. Uhhhhh I harumfed. I thanked her for my time and sped off as fast as my feet could go with the weight of my back pack acting like an anchor. I felt like a turtle going full speed. Halfway there my feet began to hurt. “No!” I shouted internally “I feel no pain! Feet? What feet? Pain? What pain? I AM A WARRIOR. Ahhh!” I charged ahead. That chant has gotten me through a surprising amount this year. When I would get groceries in Montreal and be walking home with two huge bags in either arm I could feel my arms going slightly numb the closer I got to home. I’d see people in cars and scoff at them. “Really?” I’d want to ask them, “you need to drive your groceries home? La-ame” I would tell them in a sing song-y voice. Thankfully, I was able to distract myself with visions of being a warrior long enough to make it to the check-in counter. Wahoo!
Well now I’ve finally made it to Amsterdam but unfortunately I’m only a half-life. I was exhausted when I entered the plane to come here but sleep, unlike focused and interrogative stewards who frequented the aisles, was hard to find. When I would dose off for a second in a neck cramping position, I would soon awake with a start to questions about juices, peanuts, and pasta or chicken? By the time the food came I was resigned to the fact that I would not be sleeping for a while and instead distracted myself with a little telly. I’m not even 100% sure that the British call it that but my aim is to pick up as much European English as possible. For instance, the next time I see a line I will inquire, “is this the queue?” or perhaps, “are we queueing here?” When I enter a short line I will say chummily to the person next to me, “I’m sure glad we’re in the short queue. I’d hate to wait in that queue” gesturing to the longest queue in the world. Yes, I think I’ve got this whole “European English” down.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
¡Fantastico!
Dear Friends,
Isn't this a fantastic world we live in? I feel like I've spent the entire past couple weeks completely in awe of the planet. Mudslides and earthquakes and volcanoes and all the other ways the planet has been reminding us of its existence inspire and also terrify me. Every tree I see here floors me. I was just telling my friends today that I wish I could make studying trees in South America my job because they are all so distinct and interesting looking. The clouds here too are fantastic. I feel like god delegated someone to spend their whole time just painting the clouds- they have this whispy, paint brushed effect. Speaking of, tonight we just had a lightening storm that climaxed with giant balls of hail. Of course, they immediately melted because it's ridiculously hot/humid here. Early today though was hot and lovely. I hope tomorrow for the same.
Okie I have to run- much love!
Home in two weeks!
Isn't this a fantastic world we live in? I feel like I've spent the entire past couple weeks completely in awe of the planet. Mudslides and earthquakes and volcanoes and all the other ways the planet has been reminding us of its existence inspire and also terrify me. Every tree I see here floors me. I was just telling my friends today that I wish I could make studying trees in South America my job because they are all so distinct and interesting looking. The clouds here too are fantastic. I feel like god delegated someone to spend their whole time just painting the clouds- they have this whispy, paint brushed effect. Speaking of, tonight we just had a lightening storm that climaxed with giant balls of hail. Of course, they immediately melted because it's ridiculously hot/humid here. Early today though was hot and lovely. I hope tomorrow for the same.
Okie I have to run- much love!
Home in two weeks!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Argentina
Wow. This has been a crazy past few days. I arrived in Argentina on the 1st. My friends Juliette and Arlo brought a few of their friends from Lewis and Clark (who are studying with them in Buenos) to meet me in a town in the south called Bariloche. It was incredibly beautiful- crystal clear (because they are glacier fed) lakes, giant pine trees, and vast expanses of sky. It was truly magical. They had a few days off for Easter weekend along with the rest of Argentina so it took us three hours to navegate the city and get to the bus station. Then it was a short metro ride from the bus station to the residencia where they are all living. For the time being, I am also living in the residencia but I will move Friday because that's the day Ju moves in with her family and I want to live close to her.
We just got in to BA yesterday morning and I already feel bombarded by the fast pace of the city. I ate dinner at a café yesterday on a corner and it had all glass windows so I could see people coming from four different directions. It was pretty incredible. The neighborhood we live in now ( there are 47 in Buenos Aires!) is not downtown or a business district or anything but there were people running to get where they we're going. One couple was speed walking while trying to maintain their conversation but their faces were clearly preoccupied with arriving on time. I know there are some parts of Santiago that are busy but, on the whole, just from the little I've seen, it seems a lot more tranquilo than Buenos Aires. And that makes sense because Santiago is known as the safest (big) city in South America and Buenos Aires is certainly not known for that but for other very interesting, cultural things. It has been interesting for me though because after six weeks I had just started to feel completely comfortable in Chile, like I had a handle on stuff and now I'm here and itś like being in another world. It completely jolted me.
As a result though, of coming from Chile, my lense is tainted. I see everything here in comparisson to Chile. As opposed to when I was in Chile and everything was just new, new, new. But here I have a lot of context- both of being in another South American country and of all the things I've heard about Argentina. Iḿ trying my hardest to be objective and see Argentina with new eyes but everything to me just goes in a category of better, worse or different from Chile.
We'll see how long that lasts. I am grateful that I am here because Adriana is from Argentina and already she makes so much more sense. I see her reflected in a lot of women here. For instance I heard one woman hang up the phone by saying : dalé, dalé. (pause) bueno (pause) un gran beso (pause) ciao, ciao. And that is verbatum what Adri says when she is on the phone. It was so funny and great to hear. Iḿ trying as fast as I can to pick up on little phrases they use and sounds they make and to cut out the Chilean words I picked up that are not used here. It's really fun for me getting to tailor my Spanish to each country I visit but it's very hard at the same time.
Today Ju and I are off to do some exploring and help me get to know Buenos Aires. I just sent out a big batch of post cards so everyone keep an eye out!
Un beso,
¡Ciao!
We just got in to BA yesterday morning and I already feel bombarded by the fast pace of the city. I ate dinner at a café yesterday on a corner and it had all glass windows so I could see people coming from four different directions. It was pretty incredible. The neighborhood we live in now ( there are 47 in Buenos Aires!) is not downtown or a business district or anything but there were people running to get where they we're going. One couple was speed walking while trying to maintain their conversation but their faces were clearly preoccupied with arriving on time. I know there are some parts of Santiago that are busy but, on the whole, just from the little I've seen, it seems a lot more tranquilo than Buenos Aires. And that makes sense because Santiago is known as the safest (big) city in South America and Buenos Aires is certainly not known for that but for other very interesting, cultural things. It has been interesting for me though because after six weeks I had just started to feel completely comfortable in Chile, like I had a handle on stuff and now I'm here and itś like being in another world. It completely jolted me.
As a result though, of coming from Chile, my lense is tainted. I see everything here in comparisson to Chile. As opposed to when I was in Chile and everything was just new, new, new. But here I have a lot of context- both of being in another South American country and of all the things I've heard about Argentina. Iḿ trying my hardest to be objective and see Argentina with new eyes but everything to me just goes in a category of better, worse or different from Chile.
We'll see how long that lasts. I am grateful that I am here because Adriana is from Argentina and already she makes so much more sense. I see her reflected in a lot of women here. For instance I heard one woman hang up the phone by saying : dalé, dalé. (pause) bueno (pause) un gran beso (pause) ciao, ciao. And that is verbatum what Adri says when she is on the phone. It was so funny and great to hear. Iḿ trying as fast as I can to pick up on little phrases they use and sounds they make and to cut out the Chilean words I picked up that are not used here. It's really fun for me getting to tailor my Spanish to each country I visit but it's very hard at the same time.
Today Ju and I are off to do some exploring and help me get to know Buenos Aires. I just sent out a big batch of post cards so everyone keep an eye out!
Un beso,
¡Ciao!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Donde Estoy
So as I write this I am very far south in the world. I was on the bus this morning coming from Santiago and I thought I was going to Osorno. I knew that Osorno wasn´t a huge destination in itself, more of a stopover on your way to bigger and better things. But I still thought it would be tolerable for a day. FALSE. So I stepped off the bus in Osorno and then stepped right back on and rode it all the way to Puerto Varas. Puerto Varas is a sweet town with a thick German influnce, a beautiful lake, and lots of tourist business. It´s the perfect place to layover for a day.
Then tomorrow I will traverse the lake Todos Los Lagos to get to Bariloche, Argentina. There I will reunite with my two friends from Lewis and Clark who I haven´t seen in almost a year! I´m so excited. They are on their easter break so it´s the perfect chance for them to travel and get to know Argentina. Then on Monday we will all return to Buenos Aires where they are studying!
Wooo!
Life is good!
Then tomorrow I will traverse the lake Todos Los Lagos to get to Bariloche, Argentina. There I will reunite with my two friends from Lewis and Clark who I haven´t seen in almost a year! I´m so excited. They are on their easter break so it´s the perfect chance for them to travel and get to know Argentina. Then on Monday we will all return to Buenos Aires where they are studying!
Wooo!
Life is good!
Comida Chilena Comida Rapida
In the past week I have met quite a few people who have just recently arrived in Chile. Most of those who I met were anxious to to taste typical Chilean food. And who can blame them? Tasting native cuisines is one of the best parts of traveling. What would you guess native Chilean food looks like? Lots of beans and rice? Heafty amounts of meat? Well folks, I´m sad to report that if it´s fast food then it´s Chilean food. I have yet to see a bean in a restaurant yet and as for rice, the most I´ve consumed it in restaurants is alongside Indian food or Sushi. Ha. That said, there is quite a lot of good foreign food in Santiago. A high population of Japanese people insures the sushi is good (they pronounce is suchi).
There are a few dishes that are considered typically Chilean but they are either fried or loaded with sugar. Humitas for example, look like a Chilean version of tamales except less soft and with a cup of sugar cooked into it. I can´t say that I´ve ever actually finished a humita before because they´re just so damn rich. Another typical Chilean dish is empanadas. I learned on the farm that Chilean expatriates sooth homesickness with an empanada and a glass of vino tinto to take them back home.
Another culinary definition of Chilean food is salty food. I now put salt on everything. Eggs, salad, vegetables, fish, bread. You name it I, and a lot of other Chileans, salt it. Sometimes I feel bad when I reach for the salt, but it just makes everything taste so damn good. I´m curious to see what happens to my salt intake once I´m state side.
Now the third hint for detecting if what you´re eating is Chilean is if it is covered in Mayonase. Sandwhiches, some salads and a bevvy of other things fall victim to mayo suffocation. One part food and one part mayo? That´s how they like it. Okay perhaps I´m exaggerating a bit. I haven´t had nearly that many bad experiences with mayo because I´ve mostly been eating vegetarian dishes and somehow the two are mutually exclusive. But Nora did tell me that with every meal her host mother makes sure to let her know that there is mayo on the table. And she can use it if she wants to. And here´s a knife for the mayo. In case you want it. MAYO:
There are a few dishes that are considered typically Chilean but they are either fried or loaded with sugar. Humitas for example, look like a Chilean version of tamales except less soft and with a cup of sugar cooked into it. I can´t say that I´ve ever actually finished a humita before because they´re just so damn rich. Another typical Chilean dish is empanadas. I learned on the farm that Chilean expatriates sooth homesickness with an empanada and a glass of vino tinto to take them back home.
Another culinary definition of Chilean food is salty food. I now put salt on everything. Eggs, salad, vegetables, fish, bread. You name it I, and a lot of other Chileans, salt it. Sometimes I feel bad when I reach for the salt, but it just makes everything taste so damn good. I´m curious to see what happens to my salt intake once I´m state side.
Now the third hint for detecting if what you´re eating is Chilean is if it is covered in Mayonase. Sandwhiches, some salads and a bevvy of other things fall victim to mayo suffocation. One part food and one part mayo? That´s how they like it. Okay perhaps I´m exaggerating a bit. I haven´t had nearly that many bad experiences with mayo because I´ve mostly been eating vegetarian dishes and somehow the two are mutually exclusive. But Nora did tell me that with every meal her host mother makes sure to let her know that there is mayo on the table. And she can use it if she wants to. And here´s a knife for the mayo. In case you want it. MAYO:
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Lost In Translation
Imagine going to Canada for spring break and you ask someone at your hotel where the grocery store is and they tell you that they have no idea what you´re talking about. ¨A grocery store?¨¨ You repeat. ¨¨You don´t know what a grocery store is?¨¨ ¨¨I have no idea what you´re talking about.¨¨ Well that´s weird, you think, I thought they spoke English here...
This, or some form of this, happens to me frequently. Chileans claim to speak Spanish but sometimes I feel like it´s a different language entirely. I asked Adriana, the farm owner, if she´d seen my camisa verde anywhere and she looked at me and said flatly that she had no idea what I was talking about. A camisa! You don´t know what a camisa is?¨ I laughed. For any non spanish speakers a camisa is a shirt. I´m pretty sure it was roughly the tenth word I learned in Spanish and here she was clueless. I pulled at my shirt and asked what she called it. ¨¨ohhhh, si¨¨ the response came smoothly, ¨una pulera¨¨
Of course.
The Spanish in Chile is highly stylized. They love their diminutives; aguita, riquito, fresquito, un pancito. They also drop ¨s¨s whenever they want. So ¨dos¨ becomes ¨doh¨ and ¨las tomates¨ becomes ¨lah tomate.¨ And thus it is a constant game of trying to figure out what exactly they are saying. Is there supposed to be an s there and they dropped it? Or is it another word that I just don´t recognize without an s. Additionally, there are a bounty of words that you find only in Chile. Paltas (aguacates), puleras (camisas), torros de lomo (topes), arros (aretes), etc. And so it has been quite an adventure having to navigate and learn all this new vocabulary and slang. Living on the farm, I was less exposed to the slang but now that I´m with Nora and talking with more Chilean students I´m overwhelmed by a wave of new words. Really though it´s quite fun to get good at speaking like the Chileans do. And any time I (or any gringo) integrates Chilean into there spanish it gets a laugh of approval.
It is my language that gives away my foriegness more than anything. Chileans speak rapidly and heavily. But then I get in the cab and speak lightly and springily but more or less slowly and it´s a dead give away. There was a period where I resented how hard it was to understand Chilean Spanish but now I just feel indebted to it. Because it´s so hard to understand and because there are so many different words to learn, I´ve had to work that much harder on my Spanish and gotten that much better. I don´t feel that I will ever be 100% fluent in Spanish but right now I feel totally content and confident in my abilities.
This, or some form of this, happens to me frequently. Chileans claim to speak Spanish but sometimes I feel like it´s a different language entirely. I asked Adriana, the farm owner, if she´d seen my camisa verde anywhere and she looked at me and said flatly that she had no idea what I was talking about. A camisa! You don´t know what a camisa is?¨ I laughed. For any non spanish speakers a camisa is a shirt. I´m pretty sure it was roughly the tenth word I learned in Spanish and here she was clueless. I pulled at my shirt and asked what she called it. ¨¨ohhhh, si¨¨ the response came smoothly, ¨una pulera¨¨
Of course.
The Spanish in Chile is highly stylized. They love their diminutives; aguita, riquito, fresquito, un pancito. They also drop ¨s¨s whenever they want. So ¨dos¨ becomes ¨doh¨ and ¨las tomates¨ becomes ¨lah tomate.¨ And thus it is a constant game of trying to figure out what exactly they are saying. Is there supposed to be an s there and they dropped it? Or is it another word that I just don´t recognize without an s. Additionally, there are a bounty of words that you find only in Chile. Paltas (aguacates), puleras (camisas), torros de lomo (topes), arros (aretes), etc. And so it has been quite an adventure having to navigate and learn all this new vocabulary and slang. Living on the farm, I was less exposed to the slang but now that I´m with Nora and talking with more Chilean students I´m overwhelmed by a wave of new words. Really though it´s quite fun to get good at speaking like the Chileans do. And any time I (or any gringo) integrates Chilean into there spanish it gets a laugh of approval.
It is my language that gives away my foriegness more than anything. Chileans speak rapidly and heavily. But then I get in the cab and speak lightly and springily but more or less slowly and it´s a dead give away. There was a period where I resented how hard it was to understand Chilean Spanish but now I just feel indebted to it. Because it´s so hard to understand and because there are so many different words to learn, I´ve had to work that much harder on my Spanish and gotten that much better. I don´t feel that I will ever be 100% fluent in Spanish but right now I feel totally content and confident in my abilities.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Vicuña
The town I´m staying in now is utterly charming. Like Sedona, Arizona this valley has a high magnetic energy and claims to be healing and sacred. I can´t say persay that I feel healed or more holy but I am enoying my time here.
Just like the rest of Chile, it is extremely colorful. It´s also very old though too so almost everywhere I look the paint is peeling. The best part is that where the paint is peeling, it opens up to reveal a previous paint coat and thus a different color. The result is that the wooden doors all over town, when you look closely, reveal mini rainbows. In effect, they are their own timelines, anchoring the owner in a past where the door was blue or green or yellow as opposed to the pink color that dominates it now. Paint drops on the groud around the houses are telling of a family adding another story to the timeline.
As if trying to lay their own claim to the paint history, the youth of Vicuña have covered the walls of the pueblo with uninteresting graffiti. No matter though, when you think about the city as a canvas for a giant community mural, then it seems more poetic.
Just like the rest of Chile, it is extremely colorful. It´s also very old though too so almost everywhere I look the paint is peeling. The best part is that where the paint is peeling, it opens up to reveal a previous paint coat and thus a different color. The result is that the wooden doors all over town, when you look closely, reveal mini rainbows. In effect, they are their own timelines, anchoring the owner in a past where the door was blue or green or yellow as opposed to the pink color that dominates it now. Paint drops on the groud around the houses are telling of a family adding another story to the timeline.
As if trying to lay their own claim to the paint history, the youth of Vicuña have covered the walls of the pueblo with uninteresting graffiti. No matter though, when you think about the city as a canvas for a giant community mural, then it seems more poetic.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sea Lions, Sea Otters and Elephant Seals Oh My!
So this weekend was really really fun. I got to meet a lot of Nora´s new friends in La Serena which was great. Then, on Saturday we took a day trip to a place called Isla Damas which is an hours north of La Serena. We visited three islands in total by boat. The first two though we just toured around because it´s a national park and so they don´t let you walk on two of the islands and then on the third you can only be there for an hour.
So the day started out with a bus coming to pick me and Nora up at my hostal. Then we drove around town and picked up a few more tourists. Then we had a two hour drive north and west to the coast. From there we spent a hald hour on a boat getting to the islands. Our boat had roughly 12 tourists, one guide, and two people in charge of the boat. We spent about four or five hours on the water just traveling around looking for different wildlife. In that time we saw hundreds of penguins. The kind we saw were Magellanic penguins and they were very cute. In total there are 17 different types of peguins in the world and they all live south of the equator. We also saw four different types of pelicans which are very cool birds- I might need to add them to my list of favorite animals. Then we saw an elephant seal which I really wasn´´t expecting but it was even bigger than I thought they were. They are huge and really vicious and I´m pretty sure when the males fight it´s to the death. When it comes to their food thought they cover themselves in sand and then wait for a little penguin to waddle by and they quickly snap and eat it. Quite a good idea if you ask me.
Additionally we saw a sea otter, 50 or so dolphins swimming and jumping (better than sea world). And a big group of sea lions sunning themselves on the rock. The islands are all rocky and really incredible shapes but unfortunately they are all covered in white bird shit so they´re not that breathtaking.
I have to run now- tonight I´m going to stay up late and go to an observatory to see the stars. I can´t wait!
¡Hasta luego!
So the day started out with a bus coming to pick me and Nora up at my hostal. Then we drove around town and picked up a few more tourists. Then we had a two hour drive north and west to the coast. From there we spent a hald hour on a boat getting to the islands. Our boat had roughly 12 tourists, one guide, and two people in charge of the boat. We spent about four or five hours on the water just traveling around looking for different wildlife. In that time we saw hundreds of penguins. The kind we saw were Magellanic penguins and they were very cute. In total there are 17 different types of peguins in the world and they all live south of the equator. We also saw four different types of pelicans which are very cool birds- I might need to add them to my list of favorite animals. Then we saw an elephant seal which I really wasn´´t expecting but it was even bigger than I thought they were. They are huge and really vicious and I´m pretty sure when the males fight it´s to the death. When it comes to their food thought they cover themselves in sand and then wait for a little penguin to waddle by and they quickly snap and eat it. Quite a good idea if you ask me.
Additionally we saw a sea otter, 50 or so dolphins swimming and jumping (better than sea world). And a big group of sea lions sunning themselves on the rock. The islands are all rocky and really incredible shapes but unfortunately they are all covered in white bird shit so they´re not that breathtaking.
I have to run now- tonight I´m going to stay up late and go to an observatory to see the stars. I can´t wait!
¡Hasta luego!
Monday, March 8, 2010
La Colmena Adentro
The longer I live here the less human I feel. I feel like I am slowly turning into something more organic, a compost perhaps? No, that´s no quite it... Bees have been buzzing around my head for days. Two days ago I picked one off of me thinking it was a stray hair. When that supposed hair buzzed its wings I freaked out. But that was my first clue that things we´re not right. The next day I had the sensation that there were bees resting in my hair. ¨It´s a bird´s nest not a bee´s nest¨ I told them. The joke was on me though because it wasn´t my hair they were interested in but the hive in my head. That´s right I have a beehive in my head. Honey drips out of my ears like Vermont maple syrup slow and sweet. I´ve already filled three jars today! My only complaint is the constant buzzing in my head. Buuzzzz Buzzzzzzz all day long.
At first I tried to swat them away. ¨Get out! Get out!¨ ¨¡Fuera!¨ But it was to no avail so I let them stay. Next to move in were the birds. They´ve been nesting outside my bedroom ever since I arrived and they have quite a lovely view but they wanted more. ¨Oohh,¨ they chirped, ¨I´ve always wanted to live with an American!¨ It was an easy transition since I lost my hair brush in Santiago. ¨Well since it seems I´ve build a better nest by accident than you on purpose, I suppose you can stay.¨
Next were the ants. Now they haven´t moved in, don´t get any clever ideas, but they use me as a bridge to cross the arroyo. When they first asked me to do it I was suspicious. ¨How´d you do it before?¨ I inquired- I wasn´t about to do an unnecessary favor.¨¨They replied simply, ¨we had another gringa doing it but she had to go home.¨ Okay, I shrugged. So now my day consists of sitting my bottom on one side of the arroyo and stretching both legs across to the other side. ¨You´re shorted than our last gringa,¨ they complain. ¨Watch it,¨ I warn.
Finally (I hope!) there was the spider. ¨May I?¨ She kindly asked. ¨Is your name Charlotte by chance?¨ ¨No, Silvia.¨ ¨Okay. Just wondering. Well I would let you Silvia but you see that I´m already opperating at maximum capacity. Where would you make your home? My head is filled with the birds and the bees. I´ve got the ants in my pants. I think it´s too dark for you in my stomach, not to mention other gastro-intestinal complications...¨ ¨I was thinking your belly-botton¨ she interuppted quietly. ¨Great!¨
Now I bet I can guess what you´re thinking- how would a spider make a web inside my belly-button? Well did you ever at any point in your life put your two thumbs and two pointer fingers together to make a diamond like shape and thus attempt to make the smallest hole you could possibly make that would still let in light? Well if you didn´t try it. If you did, then you know how small Silvia is. She´s a perfectionist though so I´ve had to pick out three webs already. I don´t mind though because a silk cottonball is a wonderful thing to own.
So you see? I feel more like the earth than I do like Lissie. And oh if you could only see me know. But I don´t think you can because I´m so covered in dirt and twigs. The army only wishes they could get their hands on this kind of quality camo. But for now I´m not serving the army, just a few fascinating creatures.
At first I tried to swat them away. ¨Get out! Get out!¨ ¨¡Fuera!¨ But it was to no avail so I let them stay. Next to move in were the birds. They´ve been nesting outside my bedroom ever since I arrived and they have quite a lovely view but they wanted more. ¨Oohh,¨ they chirped, ¨I´ve always wanted to live with an American!¨ It was an easy transition since I lost my hair brush in Santiago. ¨Well since it seems I´ve build a better nest by accident than you on purpose, I suppose you can stay.¨
Next were the ants. Now they haven´t moved in, don´t get any clever ideas, but they use me as a bridge to cross the arroyo. When they first asked me to do it I was suspicious. ¨How´d you do it before?¨ I inquired- I wasn´t about to do an unnecessary favor.¨¨They replied simply, ¨we had another gringa doing it but she had to go home.¨ Okay, I shrugged. So now my day consists of sitting my bottom on one side of the arroyo and stretching both legs across to the other side. ¨You´re shorted than our last gringa,¨ they complain. ¨Watch it,¨ I warn.
Finally (I hope!) there was the spider. ¨May I?¨ She kindly asked. ¨Is your name Charlotte by chance?¨ ¨No, Silvia.¨ ¨Okay. Just wondering. Well I would let you Silvia but you see that I´m already opperating at maximum capacity. Where would you make your home? My head is filled with the birds and the bees. I´ve got the ants in my pants. I think it´s too dark for you in my stomach, not to mention other gastro-intestinal complications...¨ ¨I was thinking your belly-botton¨ she interuppted quietly. ¨Great!¨
Now I bet I can guess what you´re thinking- how would a spider make a web inside my belly-button? Well did you ever at any point in your life put your two thumbs and two pointer fingers together to make a diamond like shape and thus attempt to make the smallest hole you could possibly make that would still let in light? Well if you didn´t try it. If you did, then you know how small Silvia is. She´s a perfectionist though so I´ve had to pick out three webs already. I don´t mind though because a silk cottonball is a wonderful thing to own.
So you see? I feel more like the earth than I do like Lissie. And oh if you could only see me know. But I don´t think you can because I´m so covered in dirt and twigs. The army only wishes they could get their hands on this kind of quality camo. But for now I´m not serving the army, just a few fascinating creatures.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Destruction
You hear an earthquake before you feel it. I´ve heard it described as a car coming around the bend that just never passes the house. To me though, it sounds like a combination of what a giant´s rumbling stomach must sound like and the noise you hear when you press a conch shell up close to your ear. It´s loud but at the same time subtle and entirely distinct.
The dogs went crazy for a long time before the termors began. We only have one dog, but with all the dogs within earshot it was about fifteen howling voices. They would switch off between howling and crying. In fact, ever since the quake our dog, Yancul, has been different. He is much more affectionate and sweet whereas before he was fairly macho and disinterested in us.
The terremoto caught me in the middle of a dream. I was dreaming that I was halfheartedly playing a game with my brother. He was trying to jump over my room. ¨You´re going to break the window,¨I told him. But then suddenly I woke up and became aware of the fact that I didn´t have a brother so something else was causing my window to violently thrash. It looked like a jumping bean had reincarnated as my glass window but had forgotten that in it´s new life it wasn´t supposed to jump. I ran to the doorframe and paused. ¨Ëarthquake, earthquake, earthquake¨ I thought. ¨What the hell do you do for an earthquake?¨ As the roof rumbled over me it hit me that inside is not where you want to be. So I ran. I ran down the hall and outside. And from there I ran across the grass. The moon was full that night and shined so bright it was as if god had set up a spot light. It was a short time before I realized that it was freezing. I looked down at what I was wearing. My powder blue shorts, an oversized shirt, and bare feet. In the wet grass they turned to ice. I stood hugging Adriana, the owner of the avocado farm, until the shaking stopped.
In the days since, after seeing all the destruction and sadness the earthquake caused I feel slightly sick to say this about this but at the time there was a small part of me that was loving what was happening. It is an incredible thing to feel the earth move beneath your feet. I was in complete awe. I watched as the moonlit water slopped out of the pool. ¨Yes!¨I wanted to yell, ¨you are earth and you are all powerful! We can´t hold you back! Roar!!¨ Now I wish I´d kept that part of me quiter.
At the time it wasn´t scary. Three factors account for that. One is that your mind due to adreneline or whatever shuts down so that the trauma isn´t as tramatic. Two is that I felt safe being in the countryside. The city is the most dangerous place to be for an earthquake because you´re in danger of broken glass or whatever else falling on your head. And third is that earlier that day we worked hard. I mean hard. Pulling weeds, moving barrels, lugging branches, digging holes, etc so that by the time I put my head on the pillow I was no longer Lissie Perkal, but rather, a rock. In some ways I´m surprised I even woke up. The scariest part though was our ignorance. We didn´t know where the epicenter was and if our loved ones were okay. To hear, the next day that the epicenter was in Concepcion, a city more than 500km south and that we still felt an earthquake 6 was shocking.
It was the days that followed that we´re the worst. We didn´t have electricty or water. Everyone was slightly on edge. Any time there was a tremor we tensed up and had to wait to see if it was just a tremor or a reason to run outside. Many sentences were interupted to listen for the rumbling warning. Any little noise in the house sent my heart racing. There were many times lying in bed where I would hear a noise and my heart would start pounding so hard that I couldn´t tell if it was a tremor shaking my bed or just my throbbing lifesource. Two or three times the replicas (do we call them that in English? Aftershocks) were so strong that I had my jacket on and was running out the door again before they stopped. The thing about tremors is that you just never know. It could be the start of another quake or it could be nothing. For the last earthquake Chile had in the 80´s there were tremors all day long and then in the evening the earthquake hit. But for people who live down here tremors are like raindrops, they happen sometimes but it´s not really a big deal.
Thankfully now, over a week later, our water is back on and the elecricity too. The replicas continue but each time it´s less and less scary. And I´m here on the farm for another week until I head up north to La Serena to visit Nora. It will be nice to have a change of scenery.
The dogs went crazy for a long time before the termors began. We only have one dog, but with all the dogs within earshot it was about fifteen howling voices. They would switch off between howling and crying. In fact, ever since the quake our dog, Yancul, has been different. He is much more affectionate and sweet whereas before he was fairly macho and disinterested in us.
The terremoto caught me in the middle of a dream. I was dreaming that I was halfheartedly playing a game with my brother. He was trying to jump over my room. ¨You´re going to break the window,¨I told him. But then suddenly I woke up and became aware of the fact that I didn´t have a brother so something else was causing my window to violently thrash. It looked like a jumping bean had reincarnated as my glass window but had forgotten that in it´s new life it wasn´t supposed to jump. I ran to the doorframe and paused. ¨Ëarthquake, earthquake, earthquake¨ I thought. ¨What the hell do you do for an earthquake?¨ As the roof rumbled over me it hit me that inside is not where you want to be. So I ran. I ran down the hall and outside. And from there I ran across the grass. The moon was full that night and shined so bright it was as if god had set up a spot light. It was a short time before I realized that it was freezing. I looked down at what I was wearing. My powder blue shorts, an oversized shirt, and bare feet. In the wet grass they turned to ice. I stood hugging Adriana, the owner of the avocado farm, until the shaking stopped.
In the days since, after seeing all the destruction and sadness the earthquake caused I feel slightly sick to say this about this but at the time there was a small part of me that was loving what was happening. It is an incredible thing to feel the earth move beneath your feet. I was in complete awe. I watched as the moonlit water slopped out of the pool. ¨Yes!¨I wanted to yell, ¨you are earth and you are all powerful! We can´t hold you back! Roar!!¨ Now I wish I´d kept that part of me quiter.
At the time it wasn´t scary. Three factors account for that. One is that your mind due to adreneline or whatever shuts down so that the trauma isn´t as tramatic. Two is that I felt safe being in the countryside. The city is the most dangerous place to be for an earthquake because you´re in danger of broken glass or whatever else falling on your head. And third is that earlier that day we worked hard. I mean hard. Pulling weeds, moving barrels, lugging branches, digging holes, etc so that by the time I put my head on the pillow I was no longer Lissie Perkal, but rather, a rock. In some ways I´m surprised I even woke up. The scariest part though was our ignorance. We didn´t know where the epicenter was and if our loved ones were okay. To hear, the next day that the epicenter was in Concepcion, a city more than 500km south and that we still felt an earthquake 6 was shocking.
It was the days that followed that we´re the worst. We didn´t have electricty or water. Everyone was slightly on edge. Any time there was a tremor we tensed up and had to wait to see if it was just a tremor or a reason to run outside. Many sentences were interupted to listen for the rumbling warning. Any little noise in the house sent my heart racing. There were many times lying in bed where I would hear a noise and my heart would start pounding so hard that I couldn´t tell if it was a tremor shaking my bed or just my throbbing lifesource. Two or three times the replicas (do we call them that in English? Aftershocks) were so strong that I had my jacket on and was running out the door again before they stopped. The thing about tremors is that you just never know. It could be the start of another quake or it could be nothing. For the last earthquake Chile had in the 80´s there were tremors all day long and then in the evening the earthquake hit. But for people who live down here tremors are like raindrops, they happen sometimes but it´s not really a big deal.
Thankfully now, over a week later, our water is back on and the elecricity too. The replicas continue but each time it´s less and less scary. And I´m here on the farm for another week until I head up north to La Serena to visit Nora. It will be nice to have a change of scenery.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
¡Colsechemos!
An avocado tree is a beautiful thing. The branches of the tree hang like arms on an orangutan. It´s big, long leaves smile back at you and say ¨look how healthy I am!¨
Today I had the best job in the world. Today I was asked to cosechar paltas aka pick some avocados. Getting lost in an avocado tree is a wonderful thing to do.
As I walked down the row of trees, a mixture of hass and edranol, I felt like a god among mortals. Ï´m going to pick you today!¨I roared and they screamed with joy. You see, avocados do not rippen unless they are picked. So by picking them we grant them a longer and more elegant lifestyle. Who (or what) would want to spend their life rotting in a tree awaiting their death? I don´t think a single palta would, especially when you consider how exciting it is for them to be a part of a salad or the digestive journey. ¨Hello new friends!¨ They shout upon entering the salad. ¨And my, look how red and ripe you are!´ So today together, we journeyed towards greatness.
As I popped in and out of branches, twisting and turning and using my third eye to zero in on every last palta in the tree, I felt very regal. With a crown on my head, I was finally among my people (where I see a crown, others might see a cowboy hat). ¨My people!¨ I waved my staff, a long wooden pole with a metal hook on the end to reach the high up fruits. And at first it was glorious. We swam together in a sea of plenty. I thanked them for feeding us and making money and I flattered them. I told them how in awe of them I was and how impressive and grateful we were that they survived the weeklong drought the earthquake gifted to us. ¨I know you are a water intensive plant,¨ I cooed ¨Which is why it´s all the more impressive that you´re going so strong.¨ ¨Hooray! Hooray!¨ we shouted.
But as the morning wore on fun ran away with the clouds and I was left to take care of hot and dense. Hot, I can handle, hot is no problem. But dense, dense was something new to me. ¨Back! Back beast! Back!¨ I yelled at dense leaves and branches. But dense pulled my hair and scratched my arms and dense won. but I got in a few good punches and I have captives in my hair to prove it. So I call it quits as soon as the barrel was full and headed for cover in my bedroom.
Today is not a usual day. Normally I would have my assignment for the morning (9-1_30) and then lunch and a rest and then an assignment for the evening. But today my assigment ended (failed) an hour early and there´s no boss in sight to tell me what to do next, so for now I will rest.
Footnote- All of the above avocado speak has been translated for your understanding. These are castellano speaking avocados.
Today I had the best job in the world. Today I was asked to cosechar paltas aka pick some avocados. Getting lost in an avocado tree is a wonderful thing to do.
As I walked down the row of trees, a mixture of hass and edranol, I felt like a god among mortals. Ï´m going to pick you today!¨I roared and they screamed with joy. You see, avocados do not rippen unless they are picked. So by picking them we grant them a longer and more elegant lifestyle. Who (or what) would want to spend their life rotting in a tree awaiting their death? I don´t think a single palta would, especially when you consider how exciting it is for them to be a part of a salad or the digestive journey. ¨Hello new friends!¨ They shout upon entering the salad. ¨And my, look how red and ripe you are!´ So today together, we journeyed towards greatness.
As I popped in and out of branches, twisting and turning and using my third eye to zero in on every last palta in the tree, I felt very regal. With a crown on my head, I was finally among my people (where I see a crown, others might see a cowboy hat). ¨My people!¨ I waved my staff, a long wooden pole with a metal hook on the end to reach the high up fruits. And at first it was glorious. We swam together in a sea of plenty. I thanked them for feeding us and making money and I flattered them. I told them how in awe of them I was and how impressive and grateful we were that they survived the weeklong drought the earthquake gifted to us. ¨I know you are a water intensive plant,¨ I cooed ¨Which is why it´s all the more impressive that you´re going so strong.¨ ¨Hooray! Hooray!¨ we shouted.
But as the morning wore on fun ran away with the clouds and I was left to take care of hot and dense. Hot, I can handle, hot is no problem. But dense, dense was something new to me. ¨Back! Back beast! Back!¨ I yelled at dense leaves and branches. But dense pulled my hair and scratched my arms and dense won. but I got in a few good punches and I have captives in my hair to prove it. So I call it quits as soon as the barrel was full and headed for cover in my bedroom.
Today is not a usual day. Normally I would have my assignment for the morning (9-1_30) and then lunch and a rest and then an assignment for the evening. But today my assigment ended (failed) an hour early and there´s no boss in sight to tell me what to do next, so for now I will rest.
Footnote- All of the above avocado speak has been translated for your understanding. These are castellano speaking avocados.
Monday, March 1, 2010
all good
Hey guys,
i don{t have much time to chat. Right now we{re without electricity and running water and we don{t get any cell service but everything is fine. It was definitely scary but there is something awe inspring about feeling the earth shake beneath your feet. I will write more later but rest assured that I[m fine and happy and filled with avocados.
Much love
xo
i don{t have much time to chat. Right now we{re without electricity and running water and we don{t get any cell service but everything is fine. It was definitely scary but there is something awe inspring about feeling the earth shake beneath your feet. I will write more later but rest assured that I[m fine and happy and filled with avocados.
Much love
xo
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Happiness
Everything is just so fantastic. The hostel we´re staying in now used to be a house and the architecture is amazing. It´s got high ceilings, beautiful crown moldings,and multiple courtyards. There is plump grey dove living in one of the courtyards and it has been very entertaining to watch it build its nest. It´s essentially a live version of Planet Earth. I got to witness the drama of an intruder. Apparently when doves are territorial they puff out their chests and extend their wings and hop in the direction of the intruder. The intruder, in turn, does the same. They get really worked up and tired out so they take rests in between bouts of pecking. They get so worked up that saliva falls out of their mouths every so often. I will happily report that the little dove defended his/her home beautifully. It was a quite fascinating and enjoyable way to spend the morning.
Shortly after the bird fight, Nora and I left the confines of the hostel to wander around downtown Santiago. Overall it´s a fairly clean city, although it varies from neighborhood to neighborhood. The area we´re in now is nothing special but it has some really incredible buildings. There are a lot of beautiful, bright colors and plenty of interesting shapes. It was utterly pleasant.
As for this afternoon we´re going to go to El Museo del Arte Precolumbiano which is supposed to be really good. And then we´re going to meet up with some of Nora´s Middlebury friends who are also studying in Chile.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The Calves
Ladies and gentleman I regret to inform you that when I return you might not recognise me. In fact, I doubt you will even be able to see me. Not to worry though, in my place you will find two giant calves. Yes, that´s right, after all of our excursions the only thing that´s left of me are my two giant calves.
Every step I take in the city, on our way to the beach, or through the vineyard I feel a residual soreness in my lower legs. This in part has to do with the lugging of luggage around town, up stairs, and up onto bunkbeds. I am never quite rid of the feeling of soreness becuase just as they begin to recover, we go on another epic hike or find ourselves stuck at the bottom of a valley with the only exit being millions of stairs under the light of millions of stars (not too bad when you consider that hot springs were the reason we ventured into the valley). The sum of all this though is that my calves have doubled\tripled\quadrupled in size which will be bad for recognition but good in terms of winning the speed walking olympics.
Every step I take in the city, on our way to the beach, or through the vineyard I feel a residual soreness in my lower legs. This in part has to do with the lugging of luggage around town, up stairs, and up onto bunkbeds. I am never quite rid of the feeling of soreness becuase just as they begin to recover, we go on another epic hike or find ourselves stuck at the bottom of a valley with the only exit being millions of stairs under the light of millions of stars (not too bad when you consider that hot springs were the reason we ventured into the valley). The sum of all this though is that my calves have doubled\tripled\quadrupled in size which will be bad for recognition but good in terms of winning the speed walking olympics.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Pretty Chilly
Right now we.re in Pucon and it.s unseasonably cold. It.s been raining here off and on far a few which is super extrano. Due to the foggy weather, Nora and I are headed back up North to the big city that is Santiago (a third of all of Chile.s population live in and around it!). We had an opportunity to go hakie up the top of the snow covered volcano here but due to money and time issues we decided not to go and Im so glad we did since it.s all cloudy again today. Instead last night we went to an incredible hot springs and hour outside the city. They are called Los Pozones and it was really incredible because it looked like god was shining light through a tightly knit piece of navy blue fabric. The stars were so brilliant. I can.t remember the last time I saw that many stars. It was very cool.
¡Hasta luego!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Trading Plans For Dreams
Right now Nora and I are living on Cerro Castillo (Castle Hill) in a quaint little hostel. The owner is name Patricio and this hostel is both his business and his casa. Patricio has inspired to one day turn mi casa into a hostel. What better way to meet people from all around the world and return the favor of the kindness I've experienced while traveling to the world? The hostel is located in Vina del Mar which is two hours away from Santiago and roughly twenty minutes away from Valparaiso, the San Francisco of Chile. Both cities are litered with "mini bus"- 18 person buses that scury about the cities, bringing Chilenos to and fro. the mini bus is the best and the worst thing in the world. They are the best thing because they're very efficent and effective and they perferm a very important job. They are the worst thing in the worst though for me and Nora because they rarely take us where we want to go (on the first try anyways). "Vas a Vina?" we soon found out means many things. "Vas a vina del mar?" we attempted a more thourough question. Again, failure. "VAS A WINA DEL MAR?" We yell from now on "A RELOJ DE FLORES? ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE ARTISTS BEACH AND DOWN THE HILL FROM THE PINK CAFE? PLEASE TAKE US HOME!" And so we'll see where that takes us tomorrow.
Still though, despite the fact that we rarely end up where we'd planned on going- ConCon instead of Huron, Plaza Vina instead of Vina del Mar, Pajaritos instead of Mora- we've never had a bad time. On the countrary, we always discover something great- dilicious Pisco Sours, a small quiet beach or a beautiful view of the lights of Vina during an enjoyable ride through the hills of Valparaiso. I think that's the best part of going into your vacation with few plans beacuse whatever you get is always an adventure and never a disappointment.
On that note, I am happy to say that I have found the first farm I'm going to be staying on. I was starting to panic knowing that Nora would be going to start studying in a little over a week and I still have nowhere to go. A few farms looked promising but it just wasn't working out. So I picked up my thick wwoof list, covered in marks, stars, exclamation marks, and thick red lines crossing out farms that are too far away or just not what I'm looking for and as I held it in my hand I asked it to give me something good. Please let it work out, I hoped. And so I told Nora it was time I stared calling the farms that I wanted to go to but that hadn't responded to my emails. Nora sat on the edge of my bed offering moral support as I dialed. I took a deep breath and pressed send. For any of you who don't know, speaking a foreign language is hard enough, but speaking a foreign language on the phone is about five times harder. There is no body language to pick up on, no gestures to read, it's harder to pick up on verbal cues and just generally more overwhelming. All of that coupled with the fact that the Chilean accent is fairly difficult to follow made me very nervous. I had no idea what to expect, so I was shocked to find out that I understood exactly what Adriana was saying and even better, she was in Vina for the day and wanted to meet up.
Adriana is Argentinian and living on an avacado farm in a valley between Santiago and Valparaiso. She says there is not much work to do with the avocados- paltas, as they're called here- but that on a farm there is always plenty of work to do. She was very honest with me and told me that she's distrustful of North Americans becuase in her experience they are cold and flaky people. I'm looking forward to give her a different view of them. She's eager to help her wwoofers learn Spanish and equally eager to learn about where they're from. She lives by herself and gives yoga lessons on the weekends. She seems incredibly kind and warm and I can't wait to get to know her more!
Hasta proxima,
chao,
Isa
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Two Gringas Too Much Luggage
Nora and I both agree that we brought way too much stuff. At the same time though, we agree that we brought practically nothing, especially when you consider how long we're going to be here. If nothing else, my huge backpack and Nora's medium sized but very stuffed suitcase, offer free entertainment for any Chileans. Watching us navigate the small, beautiful sidewalks is like watching a dolphin swim in the Rio grande- yes they can do it, but it's clumsy and clearly not their natural terrain. And while I'm sure watching us cracks the Chileans up (I know it does because I heard people laughing), it's also pretty funny for us too. It's impossible not to see the hilarity in watching (or being) a petite gringa with a giant backpack attempt to stay upright as the Santiago metro car throughs her around. Or as she tries to fit on a "mini bus" without maiming fellow passengers. And besisdes the entertainment value, having to walk around with that backpack on only makes me more grateful for all the times I travel without it. "I can fit anywhere!" I want to shout. "I can run if I want to!" (It's hard enough for me to stay upright with the pack on, let alone run). Thankfully though, now that we're in Vina del Mar, a popular vacation spot for Chileans during the summer, we're not the only tourists. People have even approached us asking for directions or for the nearest pharmacy. I flip my hair dramtically and say, "Ah, well I have no idea, but I appreciate it greatly that you think I would!" Really though all we do is shake our heads and say "lo siento." And we do feel sorry because we know how it feels to be lost in a strange city. I comforted by the fact though, that everyone always gets where they need to go.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Santiago Dia Dos
Heaven, heaven, heaven, oh my gosh I,m in heaven!
Even though we,ve done relatively little in this city so far, I,m totally in love. February, supposedly, is the month where the city clears out because all Santiagans are off in other places having their vacations. In March everyone will come flooding back. Meanwhile, Nora and I will mosey about babysitting thier city while they,re gone.
We read in our guidebook that Santiago is one of, if not the, safest cities in South America and it feels like they,re right. While it,s certanly a busy city, it feels generally relaxed. Mothers and sons, daughers and fathers, novios and novias and friends walk hand and hand or arms linked. It is the most endearing thing I,ve seen in a while. Lovers will spend long periods of time sitting on a bench hugging. They,re in no hurry, just content to sit and be together. It,s a beautiful thing. And even more impressive when you consider how freaking hot it is here. It is the strangest thing to dive head first into another season. When we left ABQ it was snowing and here it is hot and humid and (thankfully) breezy. The atomoshphere here is notably thinner than in most places which allows for incredible star gazing. It also means that there is more intense solar radiation. That basically translates to it feels like the sun is eating through to your bone. Okay it,s not that dramatic but it,s a scary thought.
There is a large Japanese population here which means that there is a lot of delicous sushi. Nora and I are on our way now to taste it. Then we,re off to Bellavista which has a lookout where you can see all of Santiago.
¡Hasta Luego!
Even though we,ve done relatively little in this city so far, I,m totally in love. February, supposedly, is the month where the city clears out because all Santiagans are off in other places having their vacations. In March everyone will come flooding back. Meanwhile, Nora and I will mosey about babysitting thier city while they,re gone.
We read in our guidebook that Santiago is one of, if not the, safest cities in South America and it feels like they,re right. While it,s certanly a busy city, it feels generally relaxed. Mothers and sons, daughers and fathers, novios and novias and friends walk hand and hand or arms linked. It is the most endearing thing I,ve seen in a while. Lovers will spend long periods of time sitting on a bench hugging. They,re in no hurry, just content to sit and be together. It,s a beautiful thing. And even more impressive when you consider how freaking hot it is here. It is the strangest thing to dive head first into another season. When we left ABQ it was snowing and here it is hot and humid and (thankfully) breezy. The atomoshphere here is notably thinner than in most places which allows for incredible star gazing. It also means that there is more intense solar radiation. That basically translates to it feels like the sun is eating through to your bone. Okay it,s not that dramatic but it,s a scary thought.
There is a large Japanese population here which means that there is a lot of delicous sushi. Nora and I are on our way now to taste it. Then we,re off to Bellavista which has a lookout where you can see all of Santiago.
¡Hasta Luego!
Friday, February 12, 2010
¡Chicas Me Estan Sorprendindo!
Well considering we have no clue what we´re doing things are going pretty well! We´ve made it safe and sound and Santiago is even more beautiful than I expected. As if things weren´t good enough, there is a community guitar in our hostel. And thanks to a generous friend, I will be able to whip it into shape using my pitch pipe!
Things are looking good,
more later,
xo
Lissie
Things are looking good,
more later,
xo
Lissie
Friday, January 29, 2010
And We're Off Again!
The count down starts now. It's officially 13 days until I head south. Waaaay south. To the land of penguins, and grapes vines and other long skinny things! It's funny because my basic expectations for my time in ABQ were that I would work, work and work some more. I had no intentions of doing anything other than saving money. And yet, just like the last leg of my journey, little of what I planned for happened and so much more that I wasn't excepting came up. So, keeping that in mind, I have absolutely zero expectations for my time in Chile (other than making it back in one piece). As of yet all I have is a backpack, a flight into Santiago, and a hostel reservation for the first few nights. In route to Montreal I wrote down a list of goals, things I wanted to accomplish while living in that Canadian wonderland. For this trip though my goal list will be one goal long. It is my hope that during my travels I both buy and learn to make good noise come out of a guitar. Recently I've been lamenting the fact that I'm not a more musical person. As Claire puts it, "I feel somewhat useless" when among a crowd of music making geniuses whilst they make music. But then I realized how lucky I was because my problem was such an easy one to fix. What to be a music maker? Pick up an instrument and make some then! Oh if only all things in life were that simple... So here's to hoping that this goal gets executed beautifully:)
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