off we go!

Teacher's Day ´09... still lovin' the gratuitous gifts

2009-09-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

Last year I celebrated Teacher's Day at Hogwarts with dinner out with my boss and Anto, the secretary. This year, despite the fact that there were THREE new teachers horning in on my territory, my boss took us all out to eat! I was FORCED to split a bottle of wine with the vodka-lovin', heavy drinkin' British prof since all the native Argentines chose to abstain (don't worry, your girl did not make a spectacle of herself... well, aside from eating 2 giant pieces of cake, but I would have done that without the wine). We talked a little about our students and got to know each other better, and it reminded me how much it helps to realize that other people are in the same boat. I even started to feel affection for the 22-year-old Argentinian Scarlett Johannson lookalike teacher who always seems to rub it in my face that my students are farther behind than hers.
And of course, the gifts:
A potted plant (second year in a row)
Purple body spray
An awesome pink ballpoint pen
A box with candy and an inspirational poem from my boss
Earrings from my other bosses
A little necklace
A hand towel
...SCORE!
My adult students did not give me anything. However, they have already informed me that they expect a dessert and/or song for this Monday, Student's Day. Ingrates.

Bolivia Part One: Villazon!

2009-08-10T14:33:00.000-07:00

For winter vacations 2009, I went to BOLIVIA! First I was going to go with a friend from the murga who didn't have much of a budget, the plan being to juggle and sell jewelry at stoplights in La Paz to fund the trip (this plan obviously preceded by me learning how to juggle and make jewelry in a month). Then he couldn't and I was going to go alone, which was both scary and exciting. In the end, I ended up going with these chumps:
Their names are Mati and Facu, and they are two relatively new but wonderful friends from Cordoba. In this photo, taken at our first stop in Bolivia, the border town of Villazon, neither is at their best. Mati is pale from vomiting up all of his bus meal due to the altitude, and Facu is chewing gum to try to distract himself from the cigarrettes he had forbidden himself to smoke during the trip.In the background you can see a bit of the plaza of Villazon, which bore a strking resemblance to Fred Flintstone's workplace. Villazon wasn't all bad, it had this gorgeous mural by the train station:

and, as with many border towns, a ridiculous amount of cheap items from sweaters and puppets to kitchenware, which explains the presence of a ton of Argentinians with giant shopping bags. However, much, much better was yet to come- and thank goodness, since I, as a US citizen, had to pay a 135 dollar visa to enter the dang country. I tried to talk to Evo, but he didn't budge.
After all, I suppose it's a matter of international reciprocity, and since it can't be very easy for a Bolivian, even a Bolivian with 135 dollars to spare, to get into the US, I can't really complain. And boy was it worth it! Here we are enjoying our first Bolivian meal, french fries for me and french fries + meat for Facu (it wasn't exactly the lunch hour). Mati, too queasy to eat, was kind enough to take the photo.

Proud to be an (North non-Canadian non-Mexican) American!

2009-08-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

Since Hogwarts didn't have a 4th of July barbecue this year, I took it upon myself to invite some friends over for choripan (sausage and bread sandwiches, a cheaper alternative to asado), apple pie and honoring of the Best Country on Earth. A good portion of guests came in red white and blue as firmly suggested/ordered, with the exception of my rebellious, democracy-shunning friend Cristian, who paid tribute to Russia and communism with his outfit:
Due to the fact that I was the only true blue A-muhr-icun present, I was forced to change my toast from, "To the health and continuing domination of the supreme, most important country in the universe, EVER" to "to friendship and sharing between cultures." Whatevs, the pie was a hit!

Election day!

2009-07-02T06:37:00.001-07:00

Sunday, June 28th marked two important occasions: international gay pride day and elections! The first passed by without a peep; since, unfortunately, the Cordoba gay scene is super underground and it is highly uncommon to see a same-sex couple walking together on the street, a march is out of the question. The elections, however, were impossible to ignore. For the past month or so the streets have been papered with these handsome faces:

The first, Luis Juez, former mayor of Cordoba and primary guilty party for the mess at city hall mentioned in the previous post (he was the one that gave all his friends and family lifetime jobs and ridiculous perks there), ended up winning the senate race. The second, Eduardo Mondino, lost. He did, however, achieve immortality with an incredibly catchy campaign song that is sung at least once a day in my house.
The vote here is obligatory, which meant that Sunday buses were running free to nearby towns for all the people that had to go vote. It also meant that the sale of alchohol was prohibited starting at 6 pm the night before, in a savvy move to avoid that familiar election day concern, hangover voting ("let's see, I think I want the United Leftist Front party...oooh, my head hurts... oops, I voted for Juez!")
The elections were a big topic of conversation for the last couple of weeks (now supplanted by swine flu), and it was pretty interesting to hear people's attitudes towards voting. Most of my friends made the trek to the "cuarto oscuro" (the dark room, or voting booth), a few mentioning the need to vote in order to maintain a democratic system that is relatively new (the last military dictatorship ended only 26 years ago). A few others said they weren't going to vote, risking a fine, because they were disillusioned with politics.Well hey, it's hard not to be when you see a video of the debate between Juez and Mondino, in which both (during a commercial break that was recorded regardless) accuse each other of being criminals and con men, and neither denies the accusation. Yikes.

Pay in coins, get some fish sticks

2009-06-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

So recently my Aunt Anne (another faithful reader) asked if in Cordoba we were also having a coin shortage like the one in Buenos Aires, mentioned in a New Yorker article.
The answer is yes! Almost everyday I am either told the vegetable guy owes me 15 cents for the next time, or the photocopy lady lets me get a few copies and pay back the 20 cents another time if I only have a 2 peso bill. Having a hundred (and I'm paid in 100s) can be like having nothing if you don't want to make a grocery store trip, cause most people would rather lose the business than part with their small bills. Granted, my "business" is usually a peso worth of candy, so it's an understandable decision. Today was the best though: I bought some spinach and cheese patties (just had one for lunch, EXCELLENT) for 7.50 and gave the guy a ten and two peso coins. To show his gratitude for the coins, not only did he give me back a 5 (thus only charging 7) but also threw in two calamari and cheese sticks. Awesome!

Fight! For the Right!

2009-06-16T06:51:00.000-07:00

So, when faithful blog follower Joanie Howland asked why I hadn't written in a while, I told her that basically, although I am having lots of fun in Cordoba, it's fun of a very routine, ordinary variety and not very blog-worthy. However, there are a few things about my life in Cordoba that, although common, are still pretty interesting: protests! Here's a rundown of some of the recent incidents of civil unrest I have participated in, performed at or been inconvenienced by:

1. Festival of Solidarity for Iveco, April 24th, 2009. Iveco is a car parts company where many of the workers were fired in a supposed violation of their labor contract, and thus the entire body of workers went on strike. As is often the case, I was (and am) not completely clear on the details of the conflict: I know there are more than two sides to every story and some people tell it that the firings were a necessary, legal step to combat this oft-mentioned economic crisis we're all going through. I'm not sure, but I do know that the festival was in support of normal, working people who are currently unable to support their families, and if dancing with the murga made them feel even a little bit better, it's got to be worth something!

2. March for the 40th Anniversary of the Cordobazo, May 29th, 2009. The Cordobazo (on this same date in 1969) is the name for a giant, 36 hour strike of union workers and students in opposition to the dictatorship of Ongania and the limits said dictatorship was putting on the rights of students and workers. It turned into an armed conflict between the protestors and the police, tons of property was destroyed, hundreds of protestors arrested and twenty were killed. The spirit of the march, as far as I could tell, was in memory of the fallen, but also a call to repeat the Cordobazo; not so much the violence, but union of students and workers in a common cause, something that is sadly missing today, as evidenced by the 4, count'em, FOUR, different marches to commemorate the event.

3. City hall and bus driver strikes, Friday, June 12-? The city hall workers have been striking since Friday, in protest of a proposal to cut their salaries and limit their benefits. Here's a pic from the Argentine indymedia website (Giacomino, mentioned in the poster, is the mayor who wants to make the cuts): As a result,choripan (sausage sandwiches) stands have popped up everywhere (here's a nice shot of a typical choripan vendor): their owners taking advantage of the lack of regulation, and things are generally a mess. Meanwhile, from Friday to midday Saturday all the buses of the province were on strike for a salary increase, impeding people from traveling for the long weekend and, more importantly, getting to work. The incredibly frustrating part of it all is that these two groups represent two of the most well-paid sectors of Cordoba, with salaries higher than teachers, accountants, and even doctors, to name a few. Even more frustrating, who does the bus strike inconvenience more than anyone? The little guy, of course. People with money have cars or can take taxis, but the less economically fortunate folks have no way to get to their jobs, where they are undoubtedly paid less than the bus drivers.

Cerro Colorado!

2009-05-03T06:10:00.001-07:00

Because of a ton of work (Hogwarts with the kids, Precision here in Cordoba with businesspeople) I haven't had a lot of time to keep you guys updated on my life: which isn't a huge problem because recently I haven't had that much of a life beyond classes (though I'm certainly trying!) So now, better late than never, are some pics from my Easter trip to the Cerro Colorado (about three hours north of Cordoba) with Vicky and Vappu. Cerro Colorado, for me, is the best of both worlds, because you are totally in the middle of nature, but you also have a little town with excellent West Texas style architecture. Here's the church:And here's Vicky enjoying nature with some te-re-re (mate with orange juice instead of hot water):

And there was plenty of beautiful wildlife, both large:
and small:

We ate well: noodles, rice and tuna and other delicacies:
And at night, we hit the most hoppin' bar in town (and the only bar in town), Hugo Mario, to play pool, mingle with the families of Cerro Colorado, and even chat with Hugo Mario himself!Here I am pretending to know what I'm doing:

And here are the girls outside of Hugo Maria doing their impression of me sleeping on the bus:

On Easter Sunday, Vicky and I climbed the actual Cerro Colorado:

It was beautiful up there, and the view was awesome (if a little vertigo-inducing):
And on Sunday evening, we had beer and salami sandwiches for the road and then headed back to the hustle and bustle of Cordoba!

March 24th, Dia de la Memoria

2009-04-03T11:59:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday, March 24th, was the 33rd anniversary of the coup d'etat in Argentina (not the only one, but the most significant) that began the "Dirty War", a.k.a.7 years of military dictatorship and uncountable human rights violations.
I spent the afternoon with Vappu, Vicky and the murga at a big march through downtown. Here's some of the hubbub before we set off:
The march was pretty awesome.... I was with the murgas the whole time, so I didn't get to see the breadth of the thing, but Vicky said that it stretched for at least 10 blocks, and there were tons of different groups there: lots of political parties, people with posters with faces of the "desaparecidos" from their town, and of course the "Mesa de Trabajo," (Work Table), an organization that consists in the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, Abuelas of the Plaza de Mayo, and HIJOS, who are children of desaparecidos. There was lots of drums, chants,and theatricality! One murga organized a little skit where people carrying posters with bad things "repressed" all the other dancers, who were walking around with red blindfolds. Then, together they shout "No to repression!" the drums pick up and the bad people disappear!
I was one of the bad guys, "Ignorance"- here I am with "Capitalism"- check out the American flag face paint!
The march was at least 3 hours long, which is way longer if you're kinda dancing throughout! At a certain point it split up, one group ending in the Plaza San Martin and the other (the one I was in)at a police station where lots of corruption has gone on (I heard different stuff about kids even being killed there just 4 years ago but I'm not positive). There is a lot of anti-police sentiment here in Cordoba, and from what I've heard from more than one dark-skinned pal who ended up spending the weekend in jail for no good reason, it is pretty justified.
So yes, I left the march pretty invigorated with all the cries for social justice and human rights, as well as the inevitable call for memory of the horrors of the dictatorship and punishment for those involved (almost all of whom are roaming free to this day, thanks to pardons from recently-deceased ex-president Raul Alfonsin and total a-hole ex-president Carlos Menem). I was therefore surprised by my conversations with a few students about the holiday.
One student, a 44 year old accountant who was an adolescent during the dictatorship, seemed very cynical about the whole thing, saying that the march was a paltry percentage of Cordoba's population (arguably true) and that most Argentines are too busy trying to get by with crazy inflation and superlow salaries that "memory" isn't really a priority. Another student, a late 20's woman at the company where I teach, told me that she didn't support the holiday or the march, that it was an excuse for a vacation and that people, essentially, have a selective memory: she mentioned how the dictatorship was preceded by a good deal of violence from the left-wing Montaneros, and that the military killed a lot of innocent people as well as said radicals because they "didn't have time" to figure out who was "good" and who was "bad"... pretty nuts.
So yeah, I am learning that the stuff that seems pretty black and white from an outsider perspective is much more complicated inside the country. I know where I stand, but it's pretty interesting to hear other perspectives!

Video from the Corso!

2009-04-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Vappu, there is now a video of the dance part of our presentation with the murga! I'm the one in the yellow pants rapping in an impossibly thick gringa accent.
Here's the link:
DESFILE!

Way better than "Dominicans"

2009-04-01T13:40:00.001-07:00

Me: "What do we call people from the Dominican Republic?"
Student: "Dominican Republications?"

LA MUUUUUUUUUUUURGAAAAAAAAAA

2009-03-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

"Volvio la murga, a seducirlos otra vez, sin que se dieran cuenta....."*

One of my top three favorite things about life in Cordoba (along with my great living situation and the previously mentioned veggie empanadas) is the murga. What is a murga you ask? Well, Wikipedia defines it as a group that makes music in the street for everybody, most often during the Carnaval season or other big party days. There's all sorts of styles, the two main ones here being: murga uruguaya, which is a choir that wears elaborate costumes and makeup and sings songs that almost always have both humor and social critique, and murga porteña, from Buenos Aires,which is much more about flashy dancing, loud drums and razzle-dazzle. (Think "You Got Served") Here in Cordoba there are TONS of murgas, most a combination of those two styles. It was my former guitar teacher who led me to my murga, Ni Lerda Ni Perezosa (Not Slow or Lazy). The name is, it must be admitted, ironic, because we have the reputation of being slow, lazy, and very, very flaky. Still, I love it. With the murga, I've had the chance to perform in the beautiful outdoors:In tons of plazas: at the opening of a public library, at protests dancing down the main avenue of Cordoba, at quinceneras and even at a wedding! (Here I am with Barby, another girl from the murga, and the bride and groom:) In some ways I'd say it's filled the hole left by the wonderful frisbee team at Vassar. Like the Boxing Nuns, we get in a circle and do a cheer before we go out, we wear matching-but-not-matching outfits, there's always the debate about whether the group wants to "get serious" or keep flying by the seat of our pants, and finally, it's made up of a pretty diverse collection of people (despite the reputation all murgueros have of being dirty hippies). In Ni Lerda, for example, we have med students, high schoolers and our resident poet, Felix, who is in his 60's and has quite the sense of humor (his nickname for me is "Sonrisa," or "Smile." This is much better than what he used to call me: "The Other German Girl." Blonde Barby had already taken the first spot).
Here are a few of the members strategizing before we hit the stage- guess which one's Felix:We even have a canine companero, Felix's loyal companion Eureka!
This past Sunday, we had our "corso," which means a free party for everyone in the plaza, ideally during the season of Carnaval. It was, of course, kinda badly organized, but really fun. We set up the stage (here is Vientito, the murga's resident clown, trying to mount a banner):painted our faces :
and settled in for what basically amounted to a neighborhood variety show! There were other murgas, like Patas Pa' Arriba (Feet in the Air):
a kids' murga (here's their percussion section):one adorable murguerito who insisted on being in the middle of the action:
a reggae band that played a little too long, jugglers and fire-breathers, a Nirvana-esque rock band, and, at the end, the ceremonial burning of the "Rey Momo"As it's been explained to me, Momo is like the Idiot King of the Carnaval, and when he goes up in flames, it's a symbol of a total destruction of hierarchies, equality and fiesta for everyone!
The only downside is when the wind picks up and blows flaming pieces of the Rey Momo onto the dancing public... I'm not sure what that's a symbol for.

*The murga returned, to seduce you again, without you realizing it...

Off the Ledge

2009-03-13T14:59:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody! First of all, an update. Since my near-suicide first post of '09, I have been filling my life with reading, work, murga, cooking things (like a soup that actually tasted like soup!) and lots of hanging out with the housemates, including an outing to hippie town San Marcos Sierras with awesome new Finnish roommate Vappu (the blondie awaiting her mate in the pic)
As a result, I am doing much better in Cordoba! I still miss the good old days in Austin, and it's still way too freakin hot, but am slowly burrowing back into my Argentinian existence. One of the things that is keeping me busy is the search for private students to fill my time and my pocketbook (hey, something's gotta pay for my lollipops, veggie empanadas and phone cards!). So far, it's not going so hot. The following are my Do's and Don'ts for starting your own English business.
Abby's Private Teachin' Tips

Do:Put up fliers in the schools. The less snobby ones will let you, and most kids have a pretty hard time with English here.
Don't: Expect said kids or said kids' parents to call you immediately. They're busy doing other stuff. But they will call. Eventually. Some day.
Do: Advertise the fact that you are a native speaker and have experience with all levels and ages.
Don't: Get discouraged when an uppity Irishman puts up fliers in YOUR neighborhood advertising the exact same things in the exact same words PLUS other stuff you didn't think to write.
Do: Answer the phone, it could be a potential student!
Don't: Answer the phone if you have just woken up. It could be a grumpy old lady with a billion questions you have no idea how to answer!
In conclusion, please let me know if you know anybody living in Cordoba who wants English classes. Maybe internet advertising is the trick?

A Reluctant Return, now time to RALLY

2009-03-05T03:30:00.000-08:00

A week has passed since I left Austin and journeyed back to Cordoba, and my only excuse for not writing earlier, dear reader, is that it has been quite the bumpy transition back! My visit to Austin was better than I could have imagined, full of tacos, tea, and TV time (as well as Thundercloud, tex-mex, trips, treks on the bike, tender moments... I could go on all day). All the quality time with friends, family and framily renewed my heart, but also made me as melty and squishy as a marshmallow when the time came to return. It was like exiting the womb for the second time!
Nobody wants to read a depressing post, so I'll keep it short and un-dramatic: the first week has been HORRIBLE!!! I got sickish the night before I left and have been PLAGUED by stomach pains since then, it's BLISTERING hot and humid and there is no air conditioning to be found (but plenty of MOSQUITOS), the few friends I had have dropped off the face of the EARTH, and all I can think about is sitting on the couch with the Loomis ladies, watching Gossip Girl and eating Eliza's homemade CREPES!
Okay, okay, there's also been some good stuff. Friday night I got to see Manu Chau, for example, and I still have a few friends, mainly my roommates, who are awesome and have been super tolerant with my mood swings. Each day is a little easier,work is picking up, and yesterday I got some great advice about choosing to be positive, so that's the new gameplan! I've made a list of goals for this year to keep me focused, cause goodness knows 10 months may seem like a long time, but in the blink of an eye I'll be back on that couch in Austin, wishing I was still in Argentina.

By the numbers

2008-12-15T06:52:00.001-08:00

It has been 13 months since I found myself on a plane to Miami, chatting with a toe-sock inventor and feeling pretty darn sad and nervous. 13 months since I was at the airport with my dad, listening to him rant about his treatment by the French on his visit to Paris ("I'm going to learn French and show those assholes!"). 13 months since I surrendered my cellphone to Eliza (and 12. 5 months since she dropped it in the toilet), 13 months since I shared one last cup of coffee in Clementine with Joey and L. Coco, closing an epic season of coffee shop adventures, 13 months since I saw so many friends and family, since I watched something stupid on MTV while I sunk ever deeper into the recliner, and 13 months since I had one last Chango's taco.

In those 13 months, I've kept pretty busy. I've crossed the Argentina-Chile border 7 times (but only once been harrassed to explain what the heck is a frisbee in front of all my co-travelers). I've learned and forgotten Chilean slang used nowhere else in the world. I've lived in 5 places and stayed for a while in plenty more. I've been invited to the table of people I barely know (a decision oft regretted once they saw how much this Loomis likes to eat). I've celebrated Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, my birthday, Saint Patrick's Day, 4th of July, Halloween and Thanksgiving, not to mention 25 de Mayo, Dia del Amigo and Dia de la Primavera. On plenty of those holidays, I've been homesick. I don't know the number of calls to the U.S., but it surely wasn't enough. I've taught approximately 350 English classes and a couple of cutting, gluing and coloring classes disguised as English classes. I've made wonderful friends from Argentina, Texas, Chile, Germany and Chicago, and one enemy from New Jersey. I've read 32 books, written 3 songs (weak, Joey, I know), and become a fan of 2 soap operas.

And now, on Thursday morning, after 13 months and 2 days with my feet in South America, I will step back onto American soil! And for as much as I've changed in this year, surely everything else has too. My dad probably has a few more gray hairs, my mom a few more highlights, my bro some new t-shirts and my sis a new boyfriend. Everybody's got new jobs and is living in houses I've never visited, there's a new president-elect and a Hey Cupcake! on Burnet Road.

It's been 13 months... and I am so ready for a visit home. Stock up the Honey Bunches of Oats, bean and cheese tacos and Nada Chicken subs, I'm on my way!

Thanksgiving!

2008-12-02T04:23:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday, we celebrated Thanksgiving in the house! We somehow found a turkey, everyone brought salads, and, miracle of miracles, my first ever apple pie, made with highly approximate quantities of ingredients, was edible! (Note, not exactly the FIRST... attempt .5 was a pile of salty dust with apples on top). Although few people got into the whole go-in-a-circle-and-say-what-you´re-grateful-for, we did read aloud the history of Thanksgiving. This was necessary, since more than one Argentine celebrant insisted that the holiday commemorated the time that the Pilgrams killed and ate the Native Americans. I had to explain that the massacre of the native populations of the U.S. came AFTER the meal of brotherhood and harmony!

Mariachi Mujeres

2008-12-02T04:20:00.000-08:00

The other three housemates in a card for Vicky´s birthday:

First Injured Student

2008-11-21T04:43:00.000-08:00

I guess it was a rite of passage... On my last day of real classes at Hogwarts (next weeks it´s final exams and ceremonial stuff), in the last fifteen minutes of the last class, one of my eleven year old diablitos, also the daughter of my boss, pulled out the chair from under one of the sweeter, freckly boys in the class (in general the girls in this class are incredibly cruel to the boys), who fell and hit his neck on the chair. He was okay a little bit later, but what a fright! And here I am thinking that teaching in public school with giant classes, if that´s what I end up doing, will be a breeze! Yikes.

Obama-rama!

2008-11-07T05:08:00.000-08:00

I would have given anything to have been in the US on November 4th, surrounded by my friends, family and fellow Americans, eating "Joe Bite-ems" cookies and drinking "Obama's White House Cabernit" wine (Jazmyne Crunk, you are a genius!). However, I was still here in Argentina.

Although some Argentines really have no idea about the U.S. elections (when my Teens 4 students hear "McCain", they think of a popular brand of French fries, and an unnamed housemate remarked on November 3rd, "oh, Obama is black?" This was closely followed by, "wow, good-lookin´") the majority know enough, certainly more than your average US citizen could tell you about Argentine elections. Election day, all the front pages were about the elections, from normal comments on the match-up to the less subtle titles ("UN NEGRO EN LA CASA BLANCA?") A lady at the restaraunt where I always buy my vegetarian empanadas remarked, "I want to name my dog Barack."

10 p.m., November 4th found me pacing anxiously around my house, waiting for a call from James, an Oregoner I had met a couple of days earlier at a bar. I sniffed him out as a fellow expat when I overheard his drunk Argentine buddy explaining, in simple Spanish, how to hit on a señorita argentina. Normally I avoid people from the motherland, but it was 5 days to election day, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
ME: "Where are you from?"
JAMES: "Los Estados Unidos."
ME: "Nice, me too! Obama?"
JAMES: "Obama."
ME: "Do you have cable?"
JAMES: "Yeah."
ME: "Wanna get together to watch the elections?"
JAMES: "Okay."
Done and done. But fast-forward to Tuesday, and no sign of my only connection to one of the most historic moments in the history of my country! The three channels on our TV were showing semi-nude water-dancing competitions, a game show and a soap opera (granted, the soap opera I am addicted to, but TODAY WAS NOT THE DAY!). The two computers in the house were occupied by their respective owners. I was a wreck. So, I did what I always do when I feel the hyperventilation a comin'.... called the mothership.

My mom was in New Mexico being lawyerly and making sure the voting process was legal (a.k.a. partying it up with her fellow Obamaniacs). She reminded me that it was only 5:00 in New Mexico, and that nothing had happened yet. Phew. Finally, James called, and I ran-walked the 20 or so blocks to the hostel where another American, a Californian named Bradley, lived. Relieved, I planted myself in front of the tv.

The truth is, for all the nerves, I didn't pay that much attention for the first few hours. Every time I would see that a state had been won, it was only after 2 percent of the vote had been counted. So, a little more wine and chitchat, then glance again. 3 percent. 4 percent. McCAIN MAKING HIS CONCESSION SPEECH!

I couldn't believe it was over. Although we watched McCain´s speech in dubbed Spanish, the Argentines were gracious enough to let us change Obama´s to English. In that moment, I didn't care that I was with a bunch of perfect strangers far far away from the US of A (but not as far as to be included in Obama's "forgotten corners of the world").

Yesterday, when buying sunscreen, the pharmacist asked me where I was from. It was the approximately 1,327th time I've been asked that question, but the 1st time I felt excited and proud to give my answer.

I'm cheating on my vegetable stand.

2008-10-21T06:18:00.000-07:00

One of the things I most love about Córdoba, and my specific area in Córdoba, is I can walk to get almost anything I need, including vegetables. That means that almost every day I can go to a vegetable stand, pick out what I want for lunch and or dinner (or, knowing me and my lazy habit of cooking way too much so that I only have to re-heat, for lunch and dinner and lunch and dinner etc etc). This is highly preferible to my Vassar schedule of bumming a ride to the grocery store every two weeks, buying a bunch of produce and subsequently learning a lot of hard lessons in the form of very, very soft tomatoes, carrots and bananas.
Here I even have my neighborhood vegetable stand: less than one block a way, a wide variety, a vegetable guy with whom I have the chummy neighborhood rapport I always dreamed of, and it's even owned by my housemate Vicky´s aunt, so I´m practically part of the family. Perfect, right?

Wrong. The problems started with a few mushy apples, and then snowballed into not one, but TWO worm-in-miniature-squash incidents. As I sadly handled my white-on-the-inside carrots or green-on-the-inside tomatoes, I would hear Vicky´s siren song in my ear. "There's another way.... look at my tomatoes, so red and perfect.... I've had these bananas in my basket for two weeks and they're fresher than the prince of Belair....come on, you deserve better..."
Finally, I gave in and asked her where she was buying. Hey, I thought, if Vicky could abandon her family vegetable stand (discount and all) for better quality, why couldn't I do the same?
I walked the couple of blocks to her place: Onda Verde, a chain (gasp!) of self-service (double gasp!), expensive (triple gasp!) veggies. I bought a few samplers and took them home.

Delicious. My 5 dishes I always make took on new life, and I discovered a new world where opening the produce bag wasn't a game of Russian roulette. Everything was fine, until I walked by the old stand. "Hey, why haven't you come by lately?" my vegetable man friend called as I scurried past.
What could I say? I don't eat vegetables anymore? I´m on a bread and meat diet? I forgot?
No. I couldn't lie. But I'm also a conflict-averse coward. So what do I do?
That's right folks, I am now going to two vegetable stands, often two visits in the same day. Onda Verde for the important stuff, and my first place for whatever´s safe: potatoes, a beet, a packet of juice. It is truly pathetic... but I just can't make the break!

Test your skillz!

2008-09-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

So nothing beats the Ultimate frisbee universe, but Argentina has a pretty good supply of weird nicknames that have nothing to do with the person's actual name. Try this quiz to see if you can key into the Argentine mindset!
REAL NAMES
a. Valentin
b. Lucas
c. Manuel
d. Andrea
e. Ernesto

NICKNAMES
1. Ta Ta
2. La Huevo
3. Pity (pronounced Petey)
4. Persona
5. Pee Pee. Not kidding.

Answers: a, 3; b, 4; c, 1;d, 2; e, 5

The Dark Side to Teacher´s Day

2008-09-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

On what was probably my last Teacher's Day gift (a rustic picture frame) I found this tag.
"A teacher is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others."
WHOA, I did not sign up for THAT!

Happy Teacher's Day to Me!

2008-09-11T12:55:00.000-07:00

Remember when I was mocking all the ridiculous holidays in Argentina? Well that was until today, September 11 2008, aka Teacher's Day! The gifts have been pouring in! My booty includes:
an incense holder and incense
a tank top
a potted plant
a homemade card
metallic pens
a pencil case
two Agatha Christies (!!)
and an all-expense-paid-PLUS-dessert dinner with the boss lady!
For those of you who were unaware of this important holiday, not to worry, there's still time!Look at previous blog entries to find my address. As long as they are postmarked September 11th, I won't deduct any points for tardiness of gifts.

September 16th update-
the gifts keep pouring in! two bags of chewy candy AND a little scarf!

Un Sábado cualquiera

2008-09-01T12:33:00.000-07:00

Hola! So I haven´t written in a while! Mainly because, although I am still trying to be adventurous and do new things, I have found a pretty pleasant, not very bloggable routine here. However, after a dear Austinite friend told me that her image of all countries Mexico and below was "a combination of the jungle and the San Antonio riverwalk," I decided to take her suggestion and write just a little bit about daily life in Córdoba.
Last Saturday, I did my traditional Saturday jog around the plaza about a block from my house (see what I mean about routine? I did change the route up a little bit though!) Afterwards I plopped down to stretch and watch people. In order to not appear creepy, I had to keep a quick rotation. Here´s what I saw.
(I am going to use the present tense to add some of the excitement that might be missing due to a lack of dangerous protests, mysterious Latin lovers or strange cuts of meat).
On my left, there are three or four separate pairs of girls, all drinking maté, silver thermoses in their laps. Thanks to my new, lovely, estrogen-filled housing arrangement, I no longer look at female friends and long desperately for them to turn to me and invite me into their circle. It feels nice. On my right, there are about 25 kids (who would hate to be called kids) between the ages of 13 and 17. Judging by their long, carefully placed bangs, tight pants and gender-blind eye makeup, I would probably say they are floggers. Do floggers exist in the US? Well, just in case they don´t, floggers are a weird hybrid of emo, hipster and a little bit of goth, plus lots of colors. The name comes from the fact that there biggest activity (besides meeting up in plazas) is taking pictures of themselves and putting them on fotolog. As is the case with most "urban tribes," they probably would not call themselves floggers. I like them because at least they stray from the standard Córdoba uniform of tight jeans, tight striped purple sweaters, boots and long layered hair (girls) and boring t-shirts and jeans (boys). They look friendly, and one girl even has a kitchen pot with some sort of delicious snack in it. I resist asking for a bite.
By the fountain there´s a GIANT man who might be a flogger except for his black fishnet sleeve on one arm and some chains dangling from his black pants. He is calling someone on the phone, and he is annoyed. Finally, about ten minutes later, his friends arrive. They are also "onda dark", and I smile as they all greet each other with kisses on the cheek. They may be rebellious in their clothing, but you still gotta follow some societal norms. I love Argentina.
My favorite part of the plaza is the dogs (as long as I don´t lie in their poop). They are so spunky and full of personality, a little gang of British street urchins grabbing cookies from wherever they can get 'em. Just cause they are independent, however, does not mean they don´t need love. One big, stinky guy curls up to a hippie girl who appears to be studying. The fact that she lets him lay his head in her lap makes my day.

Word of the Day: Quilombo

2008-07-30T11:43:00.000-07:00

"Quilombo," n, African origin, def. :bordello, used vulgarly in Argentina and other South American countries to describe a big, fat mess. Also the word my housemate Vicky uttered about 15 times this morning as she sat glued to the tv screen, smoking a cigarette in her bathrobe.
Our house is a block away from the municipality and the provincial courts, so at least once a week you´re bound to see groups of people protesting with drums, banners, explosions that sound like shotguns in your ear, and, on one occasion (an ambulance driver's strike) the wafting melodies of a dozen dischordant sirens going off at the same time. So, when I came back from an early English class this morning around 9:30, I didn´t think much about the group of about 100 people gathered in front of my door, this time protesting today's legislative vote to drastically cut retirement benefits throughout the province of Córdoba (I briefly considered going out to the balcony and pulling an Evita. Then I reconsidered.) However, as Vicky and I watched the news throughout the morning, I realized this protest was much bigger than average... the little group on our street met up with tons of other little groups to form (according to the news) 4 "fronts" of 10,000 protesters, all moving towards the legislative building where the vote was taking place. By around 12:30, things were really messy. The tv showed police in guard uniforms with the big shields and everything, detaining and shooting rubber bullets at groups of mainly young men throwing stones, smoke bombs, even burning a tree in the main plaza of Córdoba. According to Vicky, these "quilomberos" most likely don´t even care about the cause, but are hired by the union leaders to cause trouble... they even cover their faces so that anybody watching tv won't realize that it's the same guys that two weeks ago, for example, were protesting something completely different.
Around 1:30 I headed to the terminal to try to find a bus to Hogwarts, and it was crazy!! GHOST TOWN! So many streets blocked off, those dramatic-looking squadrons of police officers standing with their shields all around. As I got on the bus, I felt guilty for this vague sensation of, "Aw man, I´m going to miss all the fun." But at least I´m not the only one: I overheard a guy describing the action on his cellphone with a huge grin on his face, and Vicky gleefully confessed, "I love quilombo." After all, what is a protest if not a spectacle? I guess the question is if all the lights and explosions will actually make a difference. Stay tuned.

Hot dogs, etc.

2008-07-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

Whoops! Haven't written in a while! So, here's the newest dish in the life of the Abmeister....
1. Still teachin English. All you patriots out there will be glad to know that we had not one, not two, but THREE 4th of July celebrations here at Hogwarts, complete with my off-key, eleven-year-old-boy-giggle-inducing rendition of America the Beautiful and hot dogs, of course (on the left are some photos).
2. I just can´t get enough of Chile! Early June I went to visit my Zapallar Chicagoan pal Bekah (here pictured eating a papapleto, a delicious french fry guacamole hot dog creation) in Viña del Mar. We went into Valparaiso, the Coolest City on the Planet... but we also spent a LOT of time in Bekah's wonderful cloudlike bed watching CABLE! It was awesome.
3. The biggest news is that, for almost two wonderful weeks, I got to see my MOM AND SISTER! Yep, Debby and Lize spent the second half of their independence day on a plane to Buenos Aires, where I met them early the morning of the 5th. We did it up, a little Buenos Aires sightseeing , lots of beauty treatments, , a visit to the north to see the puny Iguazú Falls, and wonderful visits to Mendoza and Córdoba where mom and lize got to meet a few of the characters I have come into contact with in my time here in Argentina. It was all I could have hoped for: hugs, chatting, early morning bickering, and the chance to show my family my life down here.
4. Speaking of that, things are going well in my new house (knock on wood). Right before Mom and Lize arrived we had a "Fiesta Dark" to bid farewell to very slightly goth German housemate Yvonne. (Here's the girls preparing SANGRE-IA... get it? totally my idea!)
CHAU!

Why is my yogurt so expensive?

2008-06-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't heard, stuff is going a bit crazy here in Argentina! The farmers are striking because of a new government export tax, and have blocked the roads, which has led to food shortages (or super high prices) in grocery stores, a trucker's strike, super expensive/ non-existent gas, and a lot of worried and/or frustrated Argentines. Here's a few links about it!
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/americas/05/28/farm.strike/index.html
http://noticias.aol.com/articulos/_a/argentine-leader-demands-end-to-farmers/n20080618234609990001

Ridiculous Wizard Behavior of the Day

2008-06-09T20:10:00.000-07:00

Today I caught my Juniors 3 class passing around a paper in which they all meticulously had entered attractiveness ratings for each other on a scale from 1-10 (For example, Agustina- 8.3). I let it slide once I got them to declare me a perfect 10, although I think they were just sucking up to get an extension on their test.

Movin' on out... again

2008-06-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

Sunday night, after one last girly chat over tea and pastries, I left wonderful Pau and her wonderful apartment and moved into my newest residence! I got to the house, a big place in the centro with two Cordoba girls and a German, and sat down to eat my lentils. Suddenly I realized... instead of the glorious big screen filled with cable, there was a hilariously ancient tv! No computer with internet at my disposal! No private room! WHAT HAD I DONE?
Well, then I calmed down, and now, four days later, I am glad to say that I am very happy in the new house. I moved there because of the location and the opportunity to meet new people, and both things have been worth it (although I do miss Pau for sure). Sharing a room is so not a big deal, and the lack of a few modern amenities are a good thing... after all, I didn't move to Argentina so I could become obsessed with literally 10 sitcoms and series from the United States! And you, reading public, I think are probably better off if I don't have the ability to jot down every single thing that passes through my brain (phonoaudiologist's day?). Besides, there isn't that much news as of late. My life has become, well, kinda normal lately. ALTHOUGH, in exactly one month from today my mom and sis will be in my loving arms! So that's something to look forward to.
Oh, and my new address:
Corro 93
Centro
Cordoba, Argentina 5000
Bye!

Not exactly the boxing nuns, but...

2008-05-20T21:00:00.000-07:00

After lugging my cleats around for 6 months, I finally got to take em out for a little frisbee. Granted, we played for about 30 minutes, it was 6 on 6 at most, with two players under the age of 13, and there were no stacks, marking or organized cheers... but it was great!

Happy Taxi-Driver´s Day!

2008-05-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

Recently I called my mom on Mother's Day, without realizing it was Mother's Day! When I explained, she said, "Oh yeah, do they even have Mother's Day there?" The answer: hell yes!(but on a different date). In fact, I would guess that Argentina probably has the most "______ Day"s of any country. In the world. Ever. For example, here's May:
2: Actor's Day
7: Godchild's Day
11: Taxi-driver's Day
11: Nurse's Day
12: Grandchild's Day
12: (my personal favorite) Phonoaudiologist's day (if you are a phonoaudiologist with living grandparents, you should rake in the gifts on this day)
28: Kindergarten teacher's Day

Wizard Quote of the Day

2008-05-08T09:35:00.000-07:00

My 8 year old student Luciano: "Teacher, how long will it be before we know all the words in English? A year?"

La Pata Criolla

2008-04-29T10:16:00.001-07:00

Sunday night, with the most anticlimactic goodbye ever (an unceremonious handing over the keys and a complete lack of eye contact), I left the Buenos Aires 371 and moved into Bahia Blanca 430. Thank god!
Now I'm living with Paula, a Cordobesa translator, and her bunny Pepito (exhibit a). It's only for a month, until I move into another house with a gaggle of Argentinas in a slightly better location (here I have to cross a semi-sketchy bridge to get to the centro), but I am super content. Paula is friendly, female and not psychotic- three great things I didn't have with my previous renter. She also, I found out on day one, is patient. And boy did I put her to the test.
In Argentine, a common phrase to refer to a human disaster is a "pato criollo," or "farm duck," because, with "cada paso, una cagada"- shits all over with every step. On Monday, day one in the apartment, I was a complete pata criolla. First of all, while helping me with my lunchtime lentils, Paula got a third degree burn on her hand. (Exhibit B) Later that evening, when I went to flush the toilet and couldn't get the thingamajig to work, I ended up opening the top and accidently breaking something inside. P and I thought we fixed it, so we went to chat in the kitchen. MINUTES later, I walked to my room and stepped into a GIANT puddle. I had somehow caused a flood that extended down the hall to Paula's bedroom and deep into mine. Paula insisted on mopping up, but had to stop when her burned hand started to throb with pain. 3 days later we are still flushing with a bucket of water.
But she hasn't kicked me out! Tuesday I successfully cooked twice, and today I made homemade bread!(Exhibit c) Hopefully I won't prove to be such a disaster.

My address for the next month:
Bahía Blanca 430, departamento 30
Juniors
Córdoba, Argentina 5000

Adults are CRAAAAAAAAAAAZY!

2008-04-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

So, looks like I was right about the "for now" stuff re: the apartment. In the last couple of weeks, I have watched ol Clau head towards a complete mental breakdown (as evidenced by his simultaneous amassing of cigarettes and nicotine patches). On Wednesday, after I calmly complained about his cancelling the cleaning service we are paying for, he told me, "Abby, dejáme la pieza al fin de mes." Translation :"Abby, leave me the room at the end of the month I AM PSYCHO." After the typical Loomis hysterical crying, I decided to take this as an opportunity to get to know another living space in Córdoba (I have officially given up my dream of stability and getting settled). Right now I'm choosing between two different options (and STILL not talking to Claudio, awkward! The only things he's said to me in 5 days are "clean your room" and "take your feet off the table") that are both pretty sweet. Update soon!

Cordo-duh

2008-03-28T15:34:00.000-07:00

Dearest reading public,
So there are a few items on the agenda for today:

1. Emma visited! Just a few days after I got to Còrdoba, she sailed in (okay, hobbled in... she was forced to bring me some winter clothes) to help me get to know my new city. We spent most of our time walking around while Emma filled me in on equal parts Vassar gossip and German history, but we also found time to eat tons of ice cream (with disastrous digestive results for one Loomball), visit pals in Mendoza, hunt a troupe of Argentine male models, marvel at the millions of hairwraps that populate this country, throw the frisbee in the park, go see a movie, go to the country, eat pizza with Lizzy Roehm, and hug a lot. A wonderful treat. Oh, and the backstory on this photo : believe it or not, the matching outfits occured on accident! Em and I both wanted to surprise the other one by sneaking off and trying on these hilarious pants (we were already both wearing the shirts). Great minds think alike I guess.
!

2. The apartment: So, for now*, I am living with quite the interesting cast of characters. Here's the rundown, Seventeen-magazine-survey-style:
Claudio Montenegro, a.k.a. Clau
Age: 40 somethin
Interests: Cirque du Soleil dvds, herbal relaxation (this is deduced from the name of his cat, a kind of marijuana), his daughters who he is currently fighting for custody of, constantly lurking in the living room.
Giani, a.k.a. Gigi a.k.a. Franchute
Age: 22
Interests: Europop, Europop while he showers, correcting my terrible American accent in his equally terrible French accent, cologne.
Martìn, a.k.a Tincho
Age: 19
Interests: Being best friends with Mati, some sort of Chinese diet where you don't drink anything while you eat, Pokemón computer games, civil engineering, the guitar, looking like a frisbee player but not actually being one, having the coolest hair in the house.
Matias, a.k.a. Mati
Age: 19
Interests: Being best friends with Tincho, playing guitar and singing in public for change (I accompanied him last Saturday and we made 25 cents from a nun), talking to random people, having the second coolest hair in the house (short with a faux-hawk and a braid coming out of the back).

There's also Valeria, an Argentine in her late 20s, her 2-year-old daughter Isa, and Agustine, a 22 year old Argentine chef. They were supposed to have moved out a long time ago, but as of today they're still hanging out, and the house is a wee bit cramped.
*The "for now" is because two nights ago Claudio said that he's fed up with Argentina (because of the aforementioned custody battle) and is moving to Spain and closing the apartment in 30 days. Yesterday he changed his mind, but today he told me we were going to have a "meeting," so who knows how long I'm going to stick around!

3. So now it's time for a true confession. Sometimes when I am sad or lonely or feel like I have no control over my life, right before I go to sleep I imagine myself going to school with Harry Potter: casting spells, fighting bad guys, and eating those amazing never ending buffets in the dining hall. Now as we all know, I've already finished college and Hogwarts does not have a graduate school program, and thus I've had to surrender my dream of becoming a student there. However, a week ago, an even better dream came true. I am now officially a professor at Hogwarts. Yes reading public, little is it known that not only is Hogwarts a mystical school of witchcraft and wizardry somewhere in Scotland, it is also an English institute in Carlos Paz, Argentina, about an hour outside of Còrdoba (check it out at www.e-hogwarts.com.ar). And yours truly is now teaching four courses there- a group of 6 year olds, a group of 7 year olds, 11 year olds and 13-ers. As a professor at Hogwarts, I have found myself casting my version of the book. I think I already may have found my Harry. At the beginning of the 11 year old class, some thugs (Slytherins no doubt) were walking by the institute and shouted some combination of expletives and "Harry Potter," while also exhibiting their middle fingers. My Harry, whose name is Luciano, jumped to the door, still clad in his school uniform, and yelled, "Sonofabitch!" That's the kind of gumption that can defeat the darkest of Lords. That kid´s going to go far. I also have, unfortunately, a Moaning Myrtle.... one of the little six year olds burst into tears before the class even started, but by the 10th time we had sung the "Goodbye Song," she told me she was having a lot of fun. Oh, and the best part is the kids even talk like Harry- all our materials are British, so they teach them to say "mum" instead of "mom," "rubber" instead of "eraser" (wtf??) and pronounce zebra " zehbra." Ridiculous.

My traveling pants

2008-03-08T11:10:00.000-08:00

Perhaps I'm only influenced by the many bored-bookstore hours I spent reading the entire Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, but I think I may have found my own pair of magic pants! I bought them on Wednesday with Flor in Mendoza, hours before I got on the bus to Córdoba. They're dark blue and I actually kinda look like an adult in them. I made the mistake of not wearing them the night on the bus, which is probably why I was freezing the whole time and accidentally peed on my jeans in the bus bathroom. I also didn't wear them my first day in Còrdoba (although I did change my pants), which is probably why I didn't have any luck apartment hunting, had some major what-am-I-doing-here moments, and majorly pissed off the luggage guy at the terminal when I didn't have any coins and jokingly offered him a candy as tip (it was a good candy!).
Friday, however, I put ém on. And everything started to change.
I dropped off my CV at two promising looking institutions! I found an apartment (in the centro, cheap, tons of cool art, with a french guy and two argentines)!!! I had a lovely lunch with Lizzy´s friend Claire! I even got hired at an institute (granted, it's for one individual class, twice a week, but it's a start)!
So yeah, I'm probably jinxing myself now saying that things are going pretty well, but I'm gonna say it anyway! And the awesomest of all, I have an addressssssss!
Abby Loomis
c/o Claudio Montenegro (the cool hippie guy who owns the apartment)
Departamento 1/A
371 Buenos Aires
Còrdoba, Argentina 5000

Starstruck in Zapallar

2008-02-29T08:06:00.000-08:00

That last post was way too gloomy. Yes, I am far away from the glamour of the Oscars and other such stuff in the US, but that doesn't mean I haven't been celebrity spotting here in Zapallar, the most exclusive beach in Chile, ya heard? Here's a partial list of all the famous folks I've rubbed shoulders with:
1.Diego Muñoz, a hot on tv, raggedy in real life star of Chilean teleseries
2. Luciano Cruz Coke, another soap star with a hipster moustache who came into our store. When he asked if he could smoke outside while reading to his son, my coworker Pao said, "well, if you want to smoke in front of your child, that's your decision." Take THAT Mr. Rich and Famous!
3. Carlos, a Manhattanite with Chilean parents who produces episodes of MTV's "True Life." He's still considering Bekah and I's proposal of "True Life: I Make Construction Paper Sea Creatures."
4. A host of a Chilean morning show with impressive boobs and highlights.
5. Leelee, an acquaintance of my boss who stayed with us and revealed that she designed the bouquet for Usher's (unfortunately canceled) wedding!!

Awards Show angst.

2008-02-25T13:57:00.000-08:00

So, last night I was sitting on the couch and decided to switch the channel from the musical festival in Viña to something else, and what did I find but THE OSCARS. Getting a package of Entertainment Weeklys this weekend from my mom was wonderful, but watching the Oscars probably made me sadder than anything. I can't believe that just a year ago I was wearing the gold dress with the puffy sleeves sitting in Jaz's living room and eating popcorn and drinking beer, and this time around I didn't even have anybody next to me to say "hey, don't Jennifer Garner's bangs look weird?" or "what the heck was THAT montage about?" Sometimes it is hard to be so far away, especially when the Spanish translation of Jon Stewart's monologue is so loud and garbled that you can't even hear what he's saying in either language.

English+beach+ Abby+ kids= BAD

2008-02-18T11:36:00.000-08:00

Here it is, the newest missive from Zapallar, a lovely beach town characterized by its crab and cheese empanadas, ideal paddle-ball conditions and inhabitants who adore dressing their children in identical outfits…
So, first of all, the bad news. At least financially speaking, the workshops have turned out to be a total failure. My boss budgeted for us getting approximately 30 kids a day, and we ended up getting 5 or 6 at most, with an average of one or two solitary niños.
¨But why, Abby?” you ask. Here are my theories:
1. Nobody knew what the heck we were doing. We started out doing English workshops, but nobody wanted to learn (even if it was way fun words like “pirate,” “mountain” and “skull”) during the summer. So we changed ém to pure arts and crafts workshops, with different themes every day…and still nobody came! We had one mom who didn’t let her daughter come back (even though the daughter was way into it by the way) because we weren’t speaking enough English, and another mom who withdrew her three crazy 3-year-old triplets (thank GOD) because we were just reading and they got bored (duh, they’re THREE!). So that’s one reason.
2. The turf war. In the same building as the bookstore there’s an internet café, and the lady who runs it also happens to be a painter, who happened to decide to do painting workshops for kids, which happened to be set for the same time as our workshops, and which happened to be at a cheaper price. So duh, the kids went there instead. My boss decided to fight fire with fire and start offering wi-fi when the other peeps weren’t there, but we never really figured out the technology to be able to get our evil plot off the ground.
3. Cultural differences. I know that when I was a kid, summer was always about activities: art camp, dance camp, kickball, (and, admittedly, my daily dose of Days of our Lives with the babysitter). It’s that American mentality of multi-tasking and always doing a million things at once. For your average (superloaded) Chilean kid, summer consists of eating, going to the beach, and eating at the beach. Plus, why pay a pair of gringas to watch your kids when you’re already paying a nana to take them wherever they want to go?
4. Crappy teachers. NOT! No matter what those two disgruntled moms say, my co-teacher (and lifesaver) Bekah and I definitely gave it our all.
But now, the good news. Although the niños from Zapallar didn’t get into our workshops, they have been coming to all our events at night, everything from plays to scary story nights to dance parties! And best of all, I’ve gotten to rekindle the flame of my old lady love… the THEATAAAAAAAAAAH!
That’s right, I’ve gotten to act! First it was in a cameo with the Valpo actors in “Niña Pirata” as the negligent mom who lets her daughter escape with pirates.Then I was “Paola” in “La Voz en el Telefono,” a scary story we acted out. Then “Melissa,”a girl who starts to hear voices coming from her favorite doll, in “La Casa de las Muñecas Embrujadas” (The Haunted Dollhouse). And then I was “Lucia,” a nice girl who turns out to be a cannibal in “La Biblioteca Terrorifica.” And finally, with two other awesome guys, I learned some kids songs in Spanish for music night. The night got cuh-razy and I ended up playing “Wagon Wheel” for a decidedly underwhelmed audience of kids, but then we brought out the reggaetón and all was right with the world.
So now I have a little less than two weeks left before the next big leap into the unknown (yikes!) and even worse, tomorrow I turn 23. Life is looking grim for this old lady.
No, not really. But I do miss home (and you, faithful reader) so so so much.

Zapa-wha?

2008-01-19T06:56:00.000-08:00

So, I've now spent a week in Zapallar. Here are my impressions...
Work: The name of the game has been "go with the flow!" Last you heard, I was anticipating working about 3 hours a day doing English workshops for a bevy of sweet little kids, and spending the rest of the day on the beach, getting a tan through the pounds of sunscreen I put on every day. Instead, I spent the last 7 days in the bookstore (here it is!) up to ten hours each day, preparing and doing arts-and-crafts, games, and dancing to "High School Musical" with a little bit of English thrown in for at most 4 kids (two of whom are my coworker Pao's kids) , and I've been to the beach now twice during the day, for a total of an hour and a half. I am wearing sunscreen though! What's more, for a few days in there, I was even doing "workshops" for two kids from Ohio, whose mom wanted them to be immersed in Spanish (this required us to recruit the friends of Carole's kids, who were great and very patient in teaching the gringos the most up-to-date Chilean slang). I'm still pretty hopeful about more kids showing up... the two gals who we did get to sign up are having fun!
The place:
The vibe here is really interesting: it's a small place with two little streets, but on each of those streets you might find a pricey oyster bar, decadent bakery or women's clothes boutique. Of the many gorgeous, rail-thin Chilean gals I've seen on the street, I think maybe one hasn't been sporting some supersweet throwback Nikes and designer jeans. When I'm walking up the cobblestone street to the bookstore every day, proudly sporting my red polo shirt uniform and lugging a giant tupperware container of glue and glitter, it's almost like I'm back at Vassar or in NYC, jealous of the superhip beauties all around- only here they also rock at Spanish! But don't cry for me, Estados Unidos: Zapallar is just as beautiful as its inhabitants. Out my window, I see the hills that by morning are covered in mist and by mid-day bathed in gorgeous sunlight. To walk to the beach, you have to pass through a lovely, shady forest, and when you actually do hit the beach, well:

Plus,even though it's the most exclusive beach in Chile, it still has kiosks! Score!

The People: Here's where I really hit the jackpot! I am living in a great house
with an ever-changing cast of characters. The regulars are Carole (my boss, who's constantly in and out, traveling between Zapallar and Santiago), her two kids (Seba and Vale, 16 and 14 and totally awesome), tons of their friends (right now there are four 15 year old boys bunking with Seba), the previously mentioned and absolutely awesome Pao, who basically runs the show here in Zapallar and has an unending supply of positivity, creativity and energy, her two kids Kevin and Leti (6 and 3), her mom Noemi, who takes care of the kids and cooks yummy food, and Roberto and Liroy (20 and 22), who work in the bookstore and at the bookfairs and are really great and fun. And then, every Thursday night, four actors from Valparaiso (Cesar, Cota, Carina and Claudia, or "Quadruple C," as I call them in my head) arrive to put on a kids' play they put together themselves. > They're all super talented, warm, wonderfully bohemian and always down for drinking beer on the beach, which has been most of my social activity in Zapallar, so far (plus an awesome hip-hop and reggae concert we wandered into last Saturday, but that's another story!) So basically, things are good. I'm pretty tired, but as I get into the swing of things I think that'll get better. And hey, at least I finally got to the beach!

Por fin!

2008-01-12T14:07:00.000-08:00

I have an address! Well, kinda. It's my boss´address in Santiago, but I'll get the letters (until the end of February, that is). And I promise I'll also get on the stick (ja ja) with sending ém!
Boom Boom Loomis
c/o Carole Cummings
2749 Manuel Cruzat
Providencia
Santiago, Chile

Summer... from A to Z!

2008-01-08T18:38:00.000-08:00

Oh man, oh man oh man. So right now I'm back in Santiago, but first I've got to talk about the wonderful two and a little bit weeks I spent in Mendoza.

I bounced back and forth between Flor's house in Rivadavia, with poodles sleeping in my bed, and Esteban's house in Mendoza capital, with a giant dog sleeping in my bed. I don't know what I did in my past life to get such awesome friends who really didn't follow that whole- a house guest is like a fish, they start to stink after three days- thing. Cause believe me, I stunk, but they didn't seem to mind!

In Rivadavia, I mostly hung out with Flor, her great family, her awesome friends, and her three dogs-the poodles, Sophie and Julie and Camilla, her stepdad's dog who hangs out outside but is always trying to get in through the window. Most exciting, a baby-Flor's nephew- was born! Ticiano, who everyone agreed came out of the womb mighty ugly. He was compared to a potato, a martian, a raisin, and Pepe Grillo-a.k.a. Jiminy Cricket. Now he's much cuter. For New Year's I had a great dinner with Esteban's mom, sis, grandpa and neighbor, complete with fireworks in the street and champagne at midnight. There was dancing, a great trip on the jet-ski, driven masterfully by Flor, lots of nice naps and walks to eat ice cream, lots of floating around in pelopinches, or little above-ground pools, and, with Esteban, finally watching the third Lord of the Rings while splitting a kilo of ice cream!

And today, I headed back to Chile, and will be chilling here until the end of Februray. Through an English teacher I met at the language school in Santiago, I got offered a job running English workshops for little kids in Zapallar, a beach town near Santiago! Right now I'm staying at my future boss's house in Santiago- with cable, a giant bed, more poodles and a BATH TUB!!- and on Friday I drive out with her to Zapallar. I'm still pretty foggy about what exactly I'm going to be doing, but I'm really excited for it all.

Jo jo jo!

2007-12-27T09:20:00.001-08:00

Yikes! My how the time has flown by! I write you guys from a little internet cafe in Rivadavia, a town outside of Mendoza where I'm staying with my friend Flor, a.k.a. the most generous and friendly gal in the world. So let's see.... here's a rundown of the life of the Loomis:
Friday, December 21st: Finished my TEFL course! Drank champagne with the volunteers and handed in my portfolio. Sweet relief. Then out to a ritzy bar with the Chilenos.
Saturday, December 22nd: Off in a bus to Mendoza! Met at the terminal by old friends Esteban and Juli... We go to Esteban's dad's ranch house where I play in the pool with 6 of E's 10 siblings. Play= I drag around 3 on each arm and translate their names into "English."
Sunday, December 23rd: More of the same, plus chilling in the park. I love Mendoza a lot.
Monday, December 24th: I wake up sick as a dog. Get on the bus to Rivadavia, THROW UP ON THE BUS, and am basically a waste of space zombie for the rest of the day ( a "waste-of-space zombie", not a "space zombie"--- that would be way cooler). At the Christmas eve dinner, I meet Flor's entire family and then go to throw up more. The joke of the night is that I must be pregnant. I tell them I got to know Chile, but not THAT well.
Tuesday, December 25th: Feliz Navidad! The call home, although necessary, is of course hard. Another year goes by without Dad's Christmas mornin' french toast. We pass the day drinking mate, watching the rain (which ruined the traditional Christmas lie-by-the-pool) and watching Mickey Mouse on tv.
Wednesday, December 26th: I'm finally at 100 percent again! I log on to the comp for the first time in five days and promptly freak out about my future.
I hope you guys all had wonderful holidays. I promise to be in better contact soon!

My awesome visit to Viña and Valpo with Amy, Kate and Courtney: A Poem

2007-12-18T18:18:00.000-08:00

If you´re wanting to go to Viña del Mar,
Just take a bus, you don't need a car.
I did it just now, it was just so easy,
Cause there were three girls, waiting for me!

We made a fresh lunch in the hostel room,
Experienced travelers, they knew what to consume.´
Off to the beach, in the sun we did bake,*
And FIVE TIMES felt the shudder of a fuerte earthquake!

At Amy's host fam´s, we ate completos,*
And laughed at dirty jokes, it was first rate-o.
Then to El Huevo to dance on one of five floors,
Reggae, salsa, metal, hip-hop, the choice it is yours!

I got scammed by a taxista, but I learned my lesson,
Don't trust a "discount" he calls a "Christmas present"!
At Amy's pal Pietro's house, we ate homemade lasagna.
Nothin´ cures a hangover like comida Italiana!

A few hours later I was so sad to go,
And say goodbye to these friends I had just come to know.
Now they're back in the States, more adventures in store,
I thank them for a weekend that has now become lore!

*With layers and layers of sunscreen, moms!
**A hotdog like you have never seen, with fresh avocado, tomato, pebre and fresh bread!

TEFL: Terrifying English and a Freaked-out Loomis

2007-12-17T14:09:00.000-08:00

So, last Monday little Abby Boom Boom wandered into my first day of TEFL thinking, basically, that I didn't really need the class, just the certificate. I mean c'mon, I've tutored ESL for 3 years, volunteer-taught in Austin, I know everything, right?

Oh, so very, very wrong. At the school, I am learning sooo much about language teaching techniques (or at least as much as you can fit in in two very busy weeks) and realizing just how very hard it is. Thank goodness my TEFL teacher, Margaret, is so great, and my compañera in the class is awesome as well: only 28, with a Renée Zellwegger-look and a super relaxed, kind attitude, she has indeed disproved my previously mentioned assertion that married people are boring. Together we are two warriors of TEFL, fighting off the spectres of Tarzan talk, echoing, classroom narration, metalanguage and too much TTT.
Confused? I was too. There are so many codewords and acronyms in the TEFL-verse that it can be intimidating, but I quickly learned the ones that correspond to my weak spots:
Tarzan talk: Our first week we were practice teaching with a group of beginner volunteers. I've mostly worked with beginners, so I wasn't that worried, until Margaret told us that translation was highly discouraged in the classroom, even for people who are just starting! However, you're also not supposed to use "Tarzan talk," a.k.a. "Read. Ask. Tell teacher she pretty." Margaret showed us it wasn't impossible on the first day by giving us a mini lesson in Portuguese. By the end of the hour I was saying "eu so Abby" and I also didn't feel like I had been talked to like a guagua (Chilean for baby).
Echoing: When I first read on the online course that many teachers have a problem with repeating everything that their student said, I thought that was ridiculous. "Well that's one thing I won't have a problem with!" I scoffed to myself.In the class I taught on Friday, Margaret took notes. Echo count? 8. My bad!
Classroom narration: Another common teacher problem I assigned to less brilliant trainees. Cut to me last Thursday in class: "Now, I am going to shut the door!" My double bad!
Meta-language (a.k.a. the terms for elements of English grammar): Until last week, Spanish was hard and English was my friend, my mother tongue, that little blanket of simplicity and ample vocabulary (see? I said "ample," not "big!")I could curl up in when rolled r's and imperfect subjunctive were stabbing me in the heart. Now that I'm actually supposed to underSTAND why English, the muttiest of all mutt languages, is so freakin' weird, I hate it.
TTT (a.k.a. Teacher Talking Time): The worst of all! The big rule is that students in a language class are going to learn the most if they, duh, speak the language. Which means ol Loomball, the Baroness of Banter, Goddess of Gab, Queen of the Quip, Countess of Chatter, Potentate of Purposeless Palaver, better shut up.
In short, it's been tough. However, we are so lucky to have patient, fun and enthusiastic volunteers (who even brought Christmas cake and coffee last Friday, score!), and slowly but surely I'm starting to feel comfortable all by myself up there.

Tomando gin* y jugo

2007-12-10T13:33:00.000-08:00

So last weekend Lizzy visited, and this weekend I got to hang out with yet another fellow American- none other than the Capital S oh yes so fresh N double O P D O double G Y D O double G ya see? Yep, Snoop Doggy Dogg rolled into town, and Benja and I just had to be there. The concert was unprecedented in two ways: not only was it the first time in Chile where I understood more than the majority (and got to translate things like "Chile has the loveliest mother----in' ladies in the world" for Benja), but it was also the first (and probably last) time I was actually glad that 90 % of Chilean dudes are shorter than me. Snoop was great, and it was a really interesting cultural experience as well. Benja was very concerned that I would be robbed. The next day at the dinner table I realized this was because the concert had a lot of, according to my family, "gente flaite," a.k.a. common, ordinary... basically, poor people. I said that I felt more at home than ever, surrounded by hip-hop style, and my host dad responded that maybe in the U.S. it's harder to distinguish who is "flaite," but here you can tell. Don't get me wrong, I'm very lucky to be living in a lovely apartment in such a nice part of Santiago, but I'm also trying to take what my family says about other Chileans with a grain of salt. After all, it was basically me (a starry-eyed gringa) and Benja (a.k.a. Carlton Banks) in the middle of this "rough crowd," and we were just fine. But maybe that's just the magic of Snoop.
Ed.'s note: According to my dear friend and former Chilean Laura Coco, the best translation she heard for "flaite" was "sketchy." I assumed that the word was classist, or at least my fam's use of it, because my bro was also laughing about how a Chilean rapper, Zaturno, was shouting out certain poorer neighborhoods and all the "gente flaite" were freaking out. So basically, I don't know if "flaite" is always classist, but I definitely got that vibe.
*O.k, Benja saw this blog and said that nobody translates gin into Spanish, it's just "gin." Whoops!

It Could Be Worse

2007-12-07T17:17:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, I tripped in the subway and even though the only person around had on headphones and pretended not to notice, I still felt very embarrassed. Today Paul, an older dude in my Spanish class, said he saw a guy get his foot caught exiting the bus and he was DRAGGED for half a block BY HIS FOOT before the driver realized to stop.

An Anguished Abby

2007-12-06T13:19:00.001-08:00

(I've decided to write this one in third person for a little change of pace)
Today things began to look a little grim for the ol Loomball. This past Monday she had the opportunity to talk with Margaret, her future TEFL teacher. Good news: Margaret, a vibrant redheaded American with a variety of colorful skirts, seemed both totally nice and totally with-it. The bad news? Margaret told ol Luminosity that the TEFL class was going to be intense: in class from 9-5 everyday (part of the time practice-teaching) with up to four hours of homework! Also, there would be only one other classmate to share the burden (a woman, Margaret didn't know her age, married... and everyone knows that married people are boring*). The Loominostrich's joy at nearing the finish line of her occasionally tedious Spanish class disappeared faster than the last jug of wine at an asado. All of a sudden, trying to decipher Antonio Banderas' speed-of-light Spanish accent for four hours a day didn't seem so bad.
Little did Loopy Loomis know that things would only get more drastic. When she awoke in a pool of lovely Santiago sunlight this Thursday morning, she had one thing on her mind: what the hijo de puta huevon pelotudo indudable concha de tu madre was she going to do after the 21st of December? She had a bus ticket to Mendoza and a couple of friends who had said they could host her. Months ago. But after that? Panicked, she ran to dear ol Margaret. The Loominator poured out her fears and this is what Margaret said: "Oh Abstrocity. Here's what you need to do. Get your certificate to teach English. Once you get to Mendoza, hit the streets looking for jobs. Email the people in Buenos Aires and check out some schools in Santiago if you have time. You probably won't get a job, or at least more than a few classes, because it's the summer and the season really doesn't start until February. Other than that, be practical, don't spend a lot of money, cook for yourself (!), don't go out very much (!!) and mooch off your Argentine friends as long as possible."
Abacus held her head in her hands and began to softly weep. What kind of a plan was this? What if her money ran out before she got a job? What if her Argentine friends didn't mean it literally when they said "you can stay as long as you want"? Margaret gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Most importantly," she said, "don't stress out." Clearly, Margaret did not know who she was dealing with.
But don't worry dear readers. There was a light at the end of the tunnel for our friend AbFlex. It came in the form of a miraculously successful phone call to her friend Flor, in Argentina. "Oh amiga!" said Flor, "you just HAVE to spend Christmas with me and my family! Besides, everyone knows that the food/people/clothes/nightlife/air/Spanish/music/wine/plant species in Argentina are far superior to that of Chile!" Upon hanging up the phone, she felt a little less Loomiserable. Maybe she still had no idea what to anticipate in the year 2008. But she had a to-do list, and plans for Christmas. For now, that would do.
*only kind of true.

¿Qué pasa Mufasa?

2007-12-03T12:57:00.001-08:00

This weekend my dear friend Lizzy/Lib/Eli Roehm visited Santiago, and boy did we paint the town red! Here we are on the balcony of her hostel in the Plaza de Armas:
It was so nice to chatter away (in Spanish, gotta keep practicing!) with such a good friend, and I finally got to do all the fun stuff downtown that I hadn't gotten to do yet! Lizzy and I ate salmon in the Mercado Central, checked out the view from the Cerro Santa Lucia:visited Pablo Neruda's house, La Chascona (here's some graffiti from outside that) , got ice cream with Mark, our new gringo friend from the hostel (and a fan of the Powder Kegs!), had a lovely dinner of gourmet hot dogs with my fam, went dancin, went to the museum, saw juggling and acrobatics and talked and talked and talked, what a treat. Lizzy even met a charming Chilean guy: Oh and P.S.: In Mendoza I got the nickname "Rey Leon" (Lion King) for having a lot of hair. The title of this post is a Chilean update of that nickname.

Spontaneous shopping

2007-11-29T12:05:00.000-08:00

A partial list of things you can buy on the bus for 1-2 bucks:
1. A miniature tool kit.
2. scissors.
3. A very nice pen.
4. A little wallet.
5. A straw bell-shaped hat.
6. A lovely fan.
7. A performance from a crazed clown.
8. Ice cream.
9. A "miracle" foot cream
(It should be noted that the above list is just the meager remains, I've heard, of what you could get on the bus before the shiny new, super problematic Transantiago bus system was introduced)

Dancing in a cage, in cellophane or with a crutch!

2007-11-26T12:04:00.000-08:00

What's up everybody?
So, I wanted to use this thinger to complain and complain about the new ball of negativity that rolled into class this morning, but instead of doing that, I am going to talk about stuff I really like about my life (slowly becoming more interesting) here in Santiago.
I ended up going out with Benja´s friends Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I can't say enough how lucky I feel to be included. Friday night we went to a bar where "Los Cariñocitos"- or "The Carebears"- played Creedence, Stones and James Brown covers. Also that night someone at the table accidentally called my brand new cellphone, and the next day I heard a recording of my own voice- it was horrifying! From now on I'm trying to read my book out loud to improve my pronunciation but, as Benja pointed out, the gringa accent is hard to shake! Saturday I ended up going out dancing (we got there at 3:00 am, natch). Unfortunately the only girl in the group (Rose, who is so awesome and sadly moving to the US tomorrow) decided to go home on the way there, so it was me and about 6 guys. I would dance with one (one had just had knee surgery and was dancing with his little crutch, hilarious) while the others supervised from the bar to make sure he wasn't acting like a "jote" (a bird of prey/sleazy guy). The most ridiculous part of the night (aside from the 9 dollar cover) was the dancers on the stage, men and women, all covered in glitter and zebra print and a few in a cage! One of the guys I was with gestured to one of the zebra men and pointed out just how "gay" the dancing was, probably to assure me that he was not, in fact, gay. The homophobia here still gets under my skin.
Sunday I saw another kind of dancing with Stebrushka at the 165th anniversary for the University of Chile- modern dance by students there covered in cellophane outfits! They were truly spectacular, although the funk/rap band playing outside was more my style.
So anyway, life goes on here! Can't say enough how much it helps to read emails or even just look at the pictures on my wall.

Chillin', po. ¿ Cachai?

2007-11-22T13:18:00.000-08:00

Hello loyal readers!
First let me say what a treat it was to have dinner and lunch with my stepsister (and fellow blogger) Amy and her pals on Monday. It was really awesome to see three girls like me traveling all over the place and doing just fine. And now, an update on my Spanish classes (for those who don't know, I'm taking four hours of Spanish a day for three weeks, and then two weeks of TEFL certification after that). The good news is that the teachers (we have a ton who rotate in) are almost all really nice and I'm learning and reviewing a ton of important stuff, plus getting to watch (at an achingly slow pace) the super-steamy and weird "Como Agua Para Chocolate." The bad news: the class where I was planning to meet all of my charming and adventurous friends turned out to consist of two people: Stebrushka*, a 24 year old Russian gal, and Arnold*, a 65 year old bag of bones, complaints and bad grammar. On the second day of class Stebrushka was absent and Arnold freaked out (after not being able to pronounce the word abofetear, or to slap, ironically), shoved his notebook across the table and said "Me cansé! Esa pelicula no me sirve! Lo siento!" (I'm done! This movie doesn't help me! I'm sorry!") and then left the class! Now he lurks outside waiting for his wife to finish her beginner classes, but at least he's out of our hair! Stebrushka, on the other hand, is very nice and has become my lunch partner. I kinda feel like she's my shy Russian mom, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
My dreams really came true last night, though, when my 26 year old bro Benja let me come with him to a friend´s apartment to watch the Chile/Paraguay soccer game (a humiliating defeat for my new home). Finally, I got to hang out with some Chileans! Granted they all talk super fast, inserting "po" and "huevón" (idiot, a play on huevos, not only Spanish for eggs but also testicles, obviously) between every word, but they were super welcoming. I was the first to get a refill on my piscola, and was constantly being offered seconds of some dip with bacon, beef, cheese, sour cream, green pepper and who knows what else! There were a few awkward moments in there, like when I asked Daniel, a.k.a. Enano, a.k.a. Gnome, if there were Chilean sports that were more popular with women and he said "planchar¨... ironing. Another guy piped up with "carrerras con la aspiradora," or vacuum cleaner races, but I'm almost positive they were pulling my leg.
I wish I could tell you guys more about Santiago, but the truth is I still haven't gone past Las Condes and Providencia, the two ritziest neighborhoods. On Saturday I think my host dad's going to take me to downtown Santiago, so I'll have more to report then. Chau huevones!
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent/super obnoxious.

sock salesmen and salads

2007-11-18T13:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, let´s see if this baby works.

It´s Sunday, November 18th and I´m writing from the bedroom of my two brand new host brothers, Francisco and Benjamin. There´s a lovely breeze and the sun is super bright (don´t worry mom, I´m putting on sunscreen!)

So last Austin saw of me, I was near tears saying goodbye to my mom, pops and little sis (who was sad to see me go, but not sad enough to resist trying on all the clothes I left in my closet, according to mom). Luckily, fate intervened to cheer me up in the form of a 30-something surfer dude named Joaquin, my seatmate on the flight to Dallas. The one thing I forgot to buy before departure was athletic socks, and who do I sit next to but a sock entrepeneur ( performance toe-socks to be exact: http://www.injinji.com/)! I think that was a sign of some sort.

Saturday morning I arrived to the apartment of my new host family, la familia Barros. I found out I am their 38th student, which means that I can do very little to surprise them. They live in a neighborhood of Santiago called Las Condes that is very ritzy- everybody has new cars and cellphones: plus the fact that I´m typing this on my family´s home computer says a lot! Yesterday I took two naps, ate a great lunch of chicken, rice (with raisins, my least favorite food ever, but I gulped em down like a pro if I do say so myself), and about 15 thousand different ensaladas- carrots, tomatos, lettuce and avocado, all in separate bowls, all very yummy. Ooh, and this salsa called pebre that was deliciosa. In the afternoon Francisco, el padre, took me to change my money and get a bip! card for the bus system. So here´s the dish, so far, on the family:

Dad, Francisco: Very kind older guy. Last night we got into politics a bit which was really interesting. I guess it´s a common gringo assumption that most Chileans didn´t like Pinochet, but as far as I can tell Francisco is a supporter, at least of his economic policies. When I mentioned human rights violations, Francisco pointed out that my dear madre patria has commited more of those than anybody. Point taken.
Mom, Bernadita: So cute! Met her in her pajamas. A sweet, hard-workin lady.
Sons, Francisco and Benjamin (28 and 26): Both of these guys are super welcoming and kind. Blondies with rosy cheeks and mustaches, Francisco is a chef and Benja a banker who works with agriculture (still trying to figure this one out).
Bueno. I´m going to have to figure out how much to include in this thinger- I don´t want to be boring or repeat myself in emails, and I definitely don´t want to spend too much time writing because there will be nothing to write about! Doing a blog definitely feels really one-sided and naval-gazing, so I think I´m still going to do much more emails and calls then this stuff.

So for now, I´m going to go have some lunch and then head out into the Santiago day (the familia´s at a family lunch). Tomorrow I´ll go to the language school, and hopefully meet up with my hermanastra Amy!

Hasta luego, mis amigos!