at last. Yes, this had to come, sooner or later.
things i will no longer take for granted:
::washing machines that do not require hand wringing of clothing
::washing machines that CLEAN
::large, thick, luxurious towels (can you tell what I'm dreaming about)
::SOFAS
::carpet and not wearing shoes indoors
::música... (damn those robbers)
::gin (specifically, gin and tonic; more specifically, gin and tonic in 616)
::friends who speak ENGLISH
::asian american community (and people not calling me "chinita")
::clean bathroom floors
::pianos
In other news, I have gotten quite good at making fires and cooking with a wood stove, probably because in order to eat I have to do both. I have also bought a cell phone (if you are in Chile, call me! (09)7689.2815), finally.
The rain and the wind are beautiful. Walking in mist is wonderful, and hitchhiking into town is even better. I love nice people.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
hats
can say a lot. The 60-something taxi driver who drove me the 5km from Ancud to Fundo Lechagua, where I now am, was wearing a hat that said "STONED to the BONE," which I thought was hilarious but which he, I'm sure, didn't understand at all. It probably can from one of the many secondhand shops that sell American and European clothes, which seem to be either rejects from familiar stores or used clothing sent overseas.
The man who lives here and takes care of the pigs, chickens, and ducks (there are pigs, chickens, and ducks!! I'm still trying to convince the owner of the farm to have an asado with some peking ducks) always wears an orange hard hat. As far as I can tell from my three days here, there is no real danger of falling hard objects in any part of this fundo, since there are no coconut trees or construction equipment and all the birds seem to be very adept at flying. But, cada loco tiene su tema, as they say here in Chile, and as I probably spelled atrociously.
And Juan Ignacio, the owner here at Fundo Lechagua, always wears an old leather cowboy hat, which occasionally falls off into piles of compost while he's driving the tiller-turned-tower and looks like Indiana Jones may have once claimed it. (Though the hat is not as cool as his shoes, which are big fluffy dogs maybe the size of my head, that he wears around the house.)
I'm still looking for the perfect hat for myself. So far I haven't really needed one, but it does actually seem to be colder here, 1300 km south of Valpo, and if I really am going to head farther south I'm going to need some real gear.
In any case, it is beautiful here on Chiloé (yes, I made it!). The bus took a very efficient ferry from the mainland to Chiloé as apparently there are no bridges (as the padre here says, otherwise it wouldn't really be an island, cierto?), and deposited me here. From the hill where the grapevines are, I can see the ocean, and Ancud, not as picturesque but still spread across hills and looking a little bit like my childhood idea of an island pueblo.
Weirdly, I've started feeling nostalgic for things like driving through Germantown during winter break in the cold, seeing bare trees in Maryland, and coming home to my dorm room in 616 in the evenings. ALSO OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT
The NY State Supreme Court has rejected Columbia's attempt to use eminent domain against businesses still operating in its projected expansion area in West Harlem. Oh shitt!! Four years of my life, hundreds of hours and thoughts and pains and frustration, vindicated. Look at that. I know the fight still continues, but finally someone has publicly and officially recognized the blatant hypocrisies and inconsistencies of Columbia's expansion rhetoric and actions. I was shouting with joy when I read the article, but unfortunately could not share my elation with anyone except our three dogs, who did not seem to understand what the fuss was about. This is one moment where I regretted being in the middle of rural Chile instead of New York.
Ahh... the power of the people won't stop!
The man who lives here and takes care of the pigs, chickens, and ducks (there are pigs, chickens, and ducks!! I'm still trying to convince the owner of the farm to have an asado with some peking ducks) always wears an orange hard hat. As far as I can tell from my three days here, there is no real danger of falling hard objects in any part of this fundo, since there are no coconut trees or construction equipment and all the birds seem to be very adept at flying. But, cada loco tiene su tema, as they say here in Chile, and as I probably spelled atrociously.
And Juan Ignacio, the owner here at Fundo Lechagua, always wears an old leather cowboy hat, which occasionally falls off into piles of compost while he's driving the tiller-turned-tower and looks like Indiana Jones may have once claimed it. (Though the hat is not as cool as his shoes, which are big fluffy dogs maybe the size of my head, that he wears around the house.)
I'm still looking for the perfect hat for myself. So far I haven't really needed one, but it does actually seem to be colder here, 1300 km south of Valpo, and if I really am going to head farther south I'm going to need some real gear.
In any case, it is beautiful here on Chiloé (yes, I made it!). The bus took a very efficient ferry from the mainland to Chiloé as apparently there are no bridges (as the padre here says, otherwise it wouldn't really be an island, cierto?), and deposited me here. From the hill where the grapevines are, I can see the ocean, and Ancud, not as picturesque but still spread across hills and looking a little bit like my childhood idea of an island pueblo.
Weirdly, I've started feeling nostalgic for things like driving through Germantown during winter break in the cold, seeing bare trees in Maryland, and coming home to my dorm room in 616 in the evenings. ALSO OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT
The NY State Supreme Court has rejected Columbia's attempt to use eminent domain against businesses still operating in its projected expansion area in West Harlem. Oh shitt!! Four years of my life, hundreds of hours and thoughts and pains and frustration, vindicated. Look at that. I know the fight still continues, but finally someone has publicly and officially recognized the blatant hypocrisies and inconsistencies of Columbia's expansion rhetoric and actions. I was shouting with joy when I read the article, but unfortunately could not share my elation with anyone except our three dogs, who did not seem to understand what the fuss was about. This is one moment where I regretted being in the middle of rural Chile instead of New York.
Ahh... the power of the people won't stop!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
movimiento
Back in Chile. It is actually comforting to hear Chilean Spanish again, after straining my ears for two days trying to understand the Argentinians who ran the hostel I stayed at in San Martín de Los Andes--the "ll" that becomes a "je" or "che" sound distracted me so much that I found myself only hearing this strange new tone and failing to actually understand what was being said. Also, in my head, I kept hearing Larry's impression of Argentinians, which made me want to laugh, but usually at completely inappropriate times.
In any case, Argentina was pretty similar to Chile, except the food was oh so much better. I met a tall German named Thomas and a crazy Spaniard named Carlos, and last night we shared (a lot of) red wine and Argentinian beef which we cooked over a fire in our hostel. Que bakan! ...which actually means something different in Argentina; in Chile, "bakan" is like the slang word "cool," whereas apparently in Argentina, it means someone who always wins or gets the girl or comes out on top. Also, instead of saying "una luka" for 1mil pesos, they say "un mango," like the fruit. This I like.
Before going to Argentina, I managed to miss an alarm and had to hitchhike to a national park near Pucon since I missed the bus... but which turned out to be maybe the best thing that could have happened, since I was picked up by a school group from Temuco and got to ride up with them all the way to the base of Volcan Villarrica. They called me their "amiga magnifica de los Estados Unidos." Then I spent the afternoon hiking with a guide in the park, walking through paths where lava had run and beneath waterfalls in the misty climate of the volcano. We could see the clouds lifting briefly above the lake from where we were...
The guide also took me to the Ojos of Caburgua, which are incredibly powerful falls, cascading into bluuue water, where we saw some crazy Canadians and United Statesians kayaking over the falls. Caburgua Lake, where the Ojos originate from, is the definition of a lake. I don't think I could dream a more perfect lake. Apparently the Chilean president Bachallet and presidencial candidate Piñera have houses on the lake as well. I would die happy there, I think.
But now I am in Valdivia, where Kuntsman is brewed, and where three rivers come together to form what used to be the southernmost border of the Spanish empire. There is water everywhere, especially since it is also raining and misting at the same time. I guess I should get used to this, seeing how I'll be living on an island for then ext month... though there's something soothing and perhaps even more gorgeous about stormy days over water. One day I'll get these film pictures online! For now you will have to imagine.
In any case, Argentina was pretty similar to Chile, except the food was oh so much better. I met a tall German named Thomas and a crazy Spaniard named Carlos, and last night we shared (a lot of) red wine and Argentinian beef which we cooked over a fire in our hostel. Que bakan! ...which actually means something different in Argentina; in Chile, "bakan" is like the slang word "cool," whereas apparently in Argentina, it means someone who always wins or gets the girl or comes out on top. Also, instead of saying "una luka" for 1mil pesos, they say "un mango," like the fruit. This I like.
Before going to Argentina, I managed to miss an alarm and had to hitchhike to a national park near Pucon since I missed the bus... but which turned out to be maybe the best thing that could have happened, since I was picked up by a school group from Temuco and got to ride up with them all the way to the base of Volcan Villarrica. They called me their "amiga magnifica de los Estados Unidos." Then I spent the afternoon hiking with a guide in the park, walking through paths where lava had run and beneath waterfalls in the misty climate of the volcano. We could see the clouds lifting briefly above the lake from where we were...
The guide also took me to the Ojos of Caburgua, which are incredibly powerful falls, cascading into bluuue water, where we saw some crazy Canadians and United Statesians kayaking over the falls. Caburgua Lake, where the Ojos originate from, is the definition of a lake. I don't think I could dream a more perfect lake. Apparently the Chilean president Bachallet and presidencial candidate Piñera have houses on the lake as well. I would die happy there, I think.
But now I am in Valdivia, where Kuntsman is brewed, and where three rivers come together to form what used to be the southernmost border of the Spanish empire. There is water everywhere, especially since it is also raining and misting at the same time. I guess I should get used to this, seeing how I'll be living on an island for then ext month... though there's something soothing and perhaps even more gorgeous about stormy days over water. One day I'll get these film pictures online! For now you will have to imagine.
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