Frequently, I am contacted by folks who read this blog and are planning a visit to Chile. They ask me where to stay, what to do, how to get from A to B. I enjoy playing virtual tour guide and I offer advice when I can.
Many people want to be in the heart of it all. They choose to stay in Barrio Bellas Artes or Barrio LaStarria where you can hop onto the Metro or a bus, and it's easy to walk to restaurants and bars.
When I first moved here, back in 2011, it was almost impossible to find a restaurant open between the hours of 5pm and 7pm. They firmly shut their doors after lunch and didn't reopen until Chilean dinner hour. Now, with a huge influx of tourists, more and more places are staying open all the way through, from lunch until closing.
Walking through LaStarria, you see signs announcing "Happy Hour." Though most Chileans don't arrive to get "happy" until around 9pm, the Happy Hours usually start after lunch, which means around 5pm.
A recent article in The Guardian said that Santiago is "out to surprise" and listed the Top 10 Bars in Santiago. I might disagree about some on the list, but I have visited most of them. Six of them are within a five minute walk from my apartment...and you wondered why I post so many photos of cocktails.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Showing posts with label expat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expat. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Flojera
I'm not getting any work done. All I want to do is sit and stare at the Cordillera.
We had just enough rain over the weekend that I can clearly see those majestic Andes Mountains for the first time in almost three months. I could be doing other things, but I only want to sit quietly and soak in this view.
Earlier, I went to an expat meeting. I didn't know anyone at the meeting and the inevitable getting-to-know-you questions were asked.
"So, what do you do here in Chile?"
I get asked this question a lot, usually by well-meaning people. It's a normal question.
Since I'm not here for a job, if I'm feeling cantankerous, sometimes I reply, "Nothing." That's usually a conversation stopper, so instead I often say, "I'm retired," which doesn't fare much better.
This frequently earns me a skeptical once-over. "Really?" as if they can't believe it. "What do you do all day?"
"Well, let's see..." I laugh because explaining my schedule is complicated. Should I tell them that I'm an excellent time-waster? Or that every day is different? I usually launch into a spiel about classes and workshops, which satisfies their curiosity.
"Oh, so you're a teacher?" Not really, not at the moment. I haven't quite learned how to admit the truth, that I'm a writer.
Except on days like today when it's far too tempting to sit and watch the sun light up the snow-capped Cordillera. Today, I'm definitely a flojera, a lazy mountain watcher. Can you blame me?
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
We had just enough rain over the weekend that I can clearly see those majestic Andes Mountains for the first time in almost three months. I could be doing other things, but I only want to sit quietly and soak in this view.
Earlier, I went to an expat meeting. I didn't know anyone at the meeting and the inevitable getting-to-know-you questions were asked.
"So, what do you do here in Chile?"
I get asked this question a lot, usually by well-meaning people. It's a normal question.
Since I'm not here for a job, if I'm feeling cantankerous, sometimes I reply, "Nothing." That's usually a conversation stopper, so instead I often say, "I'm retired," which doesn't fare much better.
This frequently earns me a skeptical once-over. "Really?" as if they can't believe it. "What do you do all day?"
"Well, let's see..." I laugh because explaining my schedule is complicated. Should I tell them that I'm an excellent time-waster? Or that every day is different? I usually launch into a spiel about classes and workshops, which satisfies their curiosity.
"Oh, so you're a teacher?" Not really, not at the moment. I haven't quite learned how to admit the truth, that I'm a writer.
Except on days like today when it's far too tempting to sit and watch the sun light up the snow-capped Cordillera. Today, I'm definitely a flojera, a lazy mountain watcher. Can you blame me?
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
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Saturday, June 27, 2015
Exploring Chile
When thinking about what to post today, I reviewed some options. Should I rant about Santiago's eternal smog? Yawn, cough-cough. Or voice my opinion of Chile's soccer team's Gonzalo Jara's "disappearing finger"? If you don't already know, you don't want to know.
No, I'm feeling lazy and a bit resfriada, a little under the weather. I think the smog has finally gotten to me, so I will show you a lovely little video, made by a vacationing woman from Slovenia.
Rahela Jagric, an international filmmaker, and her boyfriend spent a month traversing Chile by bus. Here is her video, "Exploring Chile."
As she quotes Gustave Flaubert, "Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world."
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
No, I'm feeling lazy and a bit resfriada, a little under the weather. I think the smog has finally gotten to me, so I will show you a lovely little video, made by a vacationing woman from Slovenia.
Rahela Jagric, an international filmmaker, and her boyfriend spent a month traversing Chile by bus. Here is her video, "Exploring Chile."
As she quotes Gustave Flaubert, "Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world."
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
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Saturday, June 13, 2015
Travel through Reading
“We all become travelers in a different way. … I became a traveler through reading,” said famed travel writer, Paul Theroux, at an address at the University of Maine.
I remember being fascinated years ago by his book, The Great Railway Bazaar. Maybe I was encouraged by his advice not only to go on vacation, but to make a home in a different country, learn the language, and immerse myself there.
From an early age, I had the same idea as he did. In the introduction to my book, A Million Sticky Kisses, I wrote the following:
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
I remember being fascinated years ago by his book, The Great Railway Bazaar. Maybe I was encouraged by his advice not only to go on vacation, but to make a home in a different country, learn the language, and immerse myself there.
From an early age, I had the same idea as he did. In the introduction to my book, A Million Sticky Kisses, I wrote the following:
They told me that I’d been “vaccinated with the phonograph needle,” meaning I talked too much, and that I’d “never met a stranger” which meant that I’d talk to just about anybody. How else was I supposed to get information? A curious little girl, I wanted to know what was out there in the big, wide world.
At night, I’d lie awake and listen to the whistle of the midnight train as it passed through like clockwork. I always pondered where it might be going. In my imagination, it was always somewhere “exotic” and exciting. Where to tonight? Chicago? New York? Out West?I wanted to hop onboard that train and discover all those places, to find out what was out there, to be somewhere, anonymous, where it was up to me to mind my own business.
Our house wasn’t in a neighborhood full of kids. It was on the outskirts of town, and my little sister was six years younger than I was. Most of the time, I ended up playing alone, lining up my dollies and reading to them or “teaching” them from old school books. I made up stories, mostly about traveling to faraway places and what those places, and the people I’d find there, might be like.
From a childhood dream to my reality for the past four years, consciously or not, I followed Mr. Theroux's advice.I don’t remember how old I was when the idea came to me. One day, I’m going overseas...
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
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Sunday, May 31, 2015
Día del Patrimonio Cultural
There is a brass band playing outside. Enthusiastically, if slightly off-key. They are celebrating Día del Patrimonio Cultural de Chile, a nation-wide festival which lasts, not just one day, but all weekend to honor the different dimensions of cultural heritage in Chile.
In my neighborhood, the brass band is here in conjunction with the bomberos, the fire department. They play a song or two. Then, the bomberos release a stream of water from an antique steam-powered water canon, shooting it high into the air to entertain the cheering crowds.
I spoke with one of the bomberos, wearing his official company uniform which was festooned with medals. He explained to me that this engine was one of the first "fire trucks" in Santiago. It has been lovingly preserved and is used only for celebrations like this one.
When I first moved here, four years ago, a bombero approached me on the street. He had a clipboard and asked me to sign up to give a monthly donation to the fire department. In Chile, firemen are not paid. They are all volunteers.
I didn't know this at the time, and I was a little leery of signing up. "Let me think about it," I told him.
"If we get an alarm for your apartment, we're not going to think about it before we come to rescue you."
I signed up as a donor that day. Living only a block or two from the fire station, I hear the alarm at least once a day. Luckily, it's never rung for me.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
In my neighborhood, the brass band is here in conjunction with the bomberos, the fire department. They play a song or two. Then, the bomberos release a stream of water from an antique steam-powered water canon, shooting it high into the air to entertain the cheering crowds.
I spoke with one of the bomberos, wearing his official company uniform which was festooned with medals. He explained to me that this engine was one of the first "fire trucks" in Santiago. It has been lovingly preserved and is used only for celebrations like this one.
When I first moved here, four years ago, a bombero approached me on the street. He had a clipboard and asked me to sign up to give a monthly donation to the fire department. In Chile, firemen are not paid. They are all volunteers.
I didn't know this at the time, and I was a little leery of signing up. "Let me think about it," I told him.
"If we get an alarm for your apartment, we're not going to think about it before we come to rescue you."
I signed up as a donor that day. Living only a block or two from the fire station, I hear the alarm at least once a day. Luckily, it's never rung for me.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Back to the Future
As I was preparing to write the May newsletter, I opened up my Mailchimp account and put in my user name and password. A notice came up that said, "It seems that your system clock is set too far into the future."
Huh? What does that mean?
I was scratching my head over it, thinking that if this were the future, "A Million Sticky Kisses" would already be a Nº. 1 Best Seller. Hollywood would have called, and my friend would have sent his tux out to the cleaners so that he could accompany me to all those Oscar parties.
Then I remembered that Chile is in its own time zone which, apparently, doesn't exist. At some point last summer, the government declared that we were not going to move the clocks around any more. We are forever stuck in a Daylight Savings Time warp.
Right now, if we weren't renegades, we'd be at GMT-4, but we are renegades, so we are at GMT-3, which none of my electronic devices recognizes on its own. Therefore, I have to manually set my computer to Buenos Aires time, thrusting myself...too far into the future.
As for the other, a girl can dream, can't she? In the immortal words of Bloody Mary in Rodgers & Hammerstein's South Pacific, "You got to have a dream. If you don't have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?"
If you'd like to receive my monthly newsletter, you can sign up here.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Huh? What does that mean?
I was scratching my head over it, thinking that if this were the future, "A Million Sticky Kisses" would already be a Nº. 1 Best Seller. Hollywood would have called, and my friend would have sent his tux out to the cleaners so that he could accompany me to all those Oscar parties.
Then I remembered that Chile is in its own time zone which, apparently, doesn't exist. At some point last summer, the government declared that we were not going to move the clocks around any more. We are forever stuck in a Daylight Savings Time warp.
Right now, if we weren't renegades, we'd be at GMT-4, but we are renegades, so we are at GMT-3, which none of my electronic devices recognizes on its own. Therefore, I have to manually set my computer to Buenos Aires time, thrusting myself...too far into the future.
As for the other, a girl can dream, can't she? In the immortal words of Bloody Mary in Rodgers & Hammerstein's South Pacific, "You got to have a dream. If you don't have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?"
If you'd like to receive my monthly newsletter, you can sign up here.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
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Saturday, May 23, 2015
Polyglot or Bon Vivant
I watched a video about twins from England who are polyglots. Each one speaks more than six languages fluently. And here, I've been patting myself on the back just for wading through Spanish.
The video shows one of the twins demonstrating his extraordinary skills. I noticed that he cycled from Hebrew to French to Catalan to Spanish to Portuguese. Listening hard, I tried to understand him in languages other than English or Spanish and heard many similarities in the romance languages. I've been thinking about trying to learn a third language, though I'm not sure which it would be. Where would I most like to visit next? That would be the biggest motivator for me because I plan to keep traveling.
In a travel article I recently read, the author listed eight reasons that travel can make you healthier. Among them were pleasure, sense of purpose, and challenge to keep the mind sharp. Also, smiling for all those selfies. Apparently, just the act of smiling sends the "happy" message to your brain. It's hard to feel down when you're smiling.
Between practicing for my selfies and tickling my brain with new information, I may live to be 112. Wonder how many languages I could learn by then.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
The video shows one of the twins demonstrating his extraordinary skills. I noticed that he cycled from Hebrew to French to Catalan to Spanish to Portuguese. Listening hard, I tried to understand him in languages other than English or Spanish and heard many similarities in the romance languages. I've been thinking about trying to learn a third language, though I'm not sure which it would be. Where would I most like to visit next? That would be the biggest motivator for me because I plan to keep traveling.
In a travel article I recently read, the author listed eight reasons that travel can make you healthier. Among them were pleasure, sense of purpose, and challenge to keep the mind sharp. Also, smiling for all those selfies. Apparently, just the act of smiling sends the "happy" message to your brain. It's hard to feel down when you're smiling.
Between practicing for my selfies and tickling my brain with new information, I may live to be 112. Wonder how many languages I could learn by then.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Poquito de todo
It's not all just about teaching, though. Would you take a look at this exquisite coastline?
Chileans joke that when God finished making all the other parts of the earth, he took what was left over and made Chile. Driest desert in the world, the majestic Andes, surf-worthy beaches, awe-inspiring forests, imposing glaciers, Chile has it all.
The WorldPost thinks so, too. Their "Through Your Lens" article's featured country this week is Chile, showcasing photos from social media users. They call Chile an "under-rated travel destination."
I'd have to agree. Chile is a photographer's dream. What are you waiting for?
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Chileans joke that when God finished making all the other parts of the earth, he took what was left over and made Chile. Driest desert in the world, the majestic Andes, surf-worthy beaches, awe-inspiring forests, imposing glaciers, Chile has it all.
The WorldPost thinks so, too. Their "Through Your Lens" article's featured country this week is Chile, showcasing photos from social media users. They call Chile an "under-rated travel destination."
I'd have to agree. Chile is a photographer's dream. What are you waiting for?
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Presenting A Million Sticky Kisses, the Story of a Gringa Teacher in Chile
People often ask me, "Why Chile?" If you've read this blog for awhile, you may already have a clue to the answer. If you haven't, I'll give you a hint: volunteer teaching.
If you'd like to know the story of my original visits to Chile to be a volunteer teacher, it's all in my book, A Million Sticky Kisses. Now available on Amazon in both print and Kindle versions.
Watch my new book trailer here.
~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Not Lost, Just Wandering
This week, I received two Facebook friend requests from former students.
I taught these kids two years ago when I was volunteering as an assistant in 11th grade "Social Communication" classes in English. Their teacher had requested a volunteer. It turned out that she was pregnant and didn't feel well enough to be at school at least half the time.
Given the choice of going to school only when she was present or going no matter what, and teaching the classes myself, I chose to go. There was no book, no lesson plans either. I never knew in advance whether or not the teacher would be there, so like a good Girl Scout, I started preparing my own lesson plans "just in case."
If someone had previously told me that I would be teaching 16 year olds, I would have told them to have their head examined. But these 16-year olds were a dream, polite, respectful, and timidly interested in learning English. I spent the entire year in their classrooms and, because of their enthusiasm about English, I also initiated extra workshops on two levels. Level One was for those who needed reinforcement. Level Two was a conversation workshop for those who were already able to communicate in English.
I grew close to those students. Probably too close because, when the year ended, saying goodbye was heartbreaking.
The school had been sold and these kids, "my" kids, all had to move to different schools to complete their final year of high school. One young lady, a smiley girl who had always been excited about learning English, was also moving to a new area of Santiago.
On the final day that I was at school, I asked her where she would be going to school. She said, "I'm not going to school any more. I'm going to study at home."
I stared at her for a few seconds, thinking that this day would be the end of her education. Then, without warning, I suddenly burst into tears. Shocked, she gave me a hug and patted my back, murmuring, "It's okay, Miss Sally. Don't cry, Miss Sally," which only made me sob harder.
I hate losing track of a student, but since then, I had heard nothing from her nor about her...until last week when she "friended" me. I can't wait to hear how she's doing.
No more tears now. Can you see me smiling?
~~Sally Rose
I taught these kids two years ago when I was volunteering as an assistant in 11th grade "Social Communication" classes in English. Their teacher had requested a volunteer. It turned out that she was pregnant and didn't feel well enough to be at school at least half the time.
Given the choice of going to school only when she was present or going no matter what, and teaching the classes myself, I chose to go. There was no book, no lesson plans either. I never knew in advance whether or not the teacher would be there, so like a good Girl Scout, I started preparing my own lesson plans "just in case."
If someone had previously told me that I would be teaching 16 year olds, I would have told them to have their head examined. But these 16-year olds were a dream, polite, respectful, and timidly interested in learning English. I spent the entire year in their classrooms and, because of their enthusiasm about English, I also initiated extra workshops on two levels. Level One was for those who needed reinforcement. Level Two was a conversation workshop for those who were already able to communicate in English.
I grew close to those students. Probably too close because, when the year ended, saying goodbye was heartbreaking.
The school had been sold and these kids, "my" kids, all had to move to different schools to complete their final year of high school. One young lady, a smiley girl who had always been excited about learning English, was also moving to a new area of Santiago.
On the final day that I was at school, I asked her where she would be going to school. She said, "I'm not going to school any more. I'm going to study at home."
I stared at her for a few seconds, thinking that this day would be the end of her education. Then, without warning, I suddenly burst into tears. Shocked, she gave me a hug and patted my back, murmuring, "It's okay, Miss Sally. Don't cry, Miss Sally," which only made me sob harder.
I hate losing track of a student, but since then, I had heard nothing from her nor about her...until last week when she "friended" me. I can't wait to hear how she's doing.
No more tears now. Can you see me smiling?
~~Sally Rose
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Time Warp
Back in Chile a little more than a month and I am just now settling into a regular routine again.
I suppose it didn't help that I arrived here exhausted, only stayed a few days, then set off for a week in Chiloé. In reality, I've only been back in Santiago for three weeks, but one thing is apparent. I'm not in Kansas any more, Dorothy.
I instantly jumped from spring into autumn. Skipping summer altogether, I returned to my tiny downtown Santiago apartment where my sedate existence was upturned. Like in Jerry Seinfeld's Bizarro World, everything is opposite.
Contrary to the quiet of the past six months, from 1 to 2pm, a lone saxophonist stands near the corner of Merced and Miraflores. I can hear him from my apartment if I am in my kitchen. In the evening, a band of buskers paints their faces and marches through the neighborhood like clockwork, an itinerant flute and drum corp. Late nights, I can hear another musician on a different corner. I'd feel like I'm living in the circus, except that I like this music and it's far enough away to sound soulful or lively, rather than ear-splitting.
My internal clock is now shoved forward a few hours. Instead of going to bed at 10pm like in the US, I'm sometimes finishing dinner at 10pm. Time slows down here, yet fast forwards to late night party and dinner invitations whose start time is more a suggestion than an expectation. Depending on where I am, I'm either in bed with the chickens or up until the cows come home. A slight exaggeration, but welcome to Bizarro World.
~~Sally Rose
I suppose it didn't help that I arrived here exhausted, only stayed a few days, then set off for a week in Chiloé. In reality, I've only been back in Santiago for three weeks, but one thing is apparent. I'm not in Kansas any more, Dorothy.
I instantly jumped from spring into autumn. Skipping summer altogether, I returned to my tiny downtown Santiago apartment where my sedate existence was upturned. Like in Jerry Seinfeld's Bizarro World, everything is opposite.
Contrary to the quiet of the past six months, from 1 to 2pm, a lone saxophonist stands near the corner of Merced and Miraflores. I can hear him from my apartment if I am in my kitchen. In the evening, a band of buskers paints their faces and marches through the neighborhood like clockwork, an itinerant flute and drum corp. Late nights, I can hear another musician on a different corner. I'd feel like I'm living in the circus, except that I like this music and it's far enough away to sound soulful or lively, rather than ear-splitting.
My internal clock is now shoved forward a few hours. Instead of going to bed at 10pm like in the US, I'm sometimes finishing dinner at 10pm. Time slows down here, yet fast forwards to late night party and dinner invitations whose start time is more a suggestion than an expectation. Depending on where I am, I'm either in bed with the chickens or up until the cows come home. A slight exaggeration, but welcome to Bizarro World.
~~Sally Rose
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Santiago Street Art
Today, I took an Urban Art tour. We met at Metro Bellas Artes to begin with the murals painted by Chilean artist INTI.
From there, we walked down Santo Domingo, into Barrio Esmeralda, along the Mapocho River, and across into Bellavista. Our guide, Paola, was very well-versed because her boyfriend is a Chilean grafitero, a street artist. She explained the history of the art, the methods used to paint the murals, and the codes of conduct among the artists. We learned a bit about Chilean history and the back stories of the art, as well. See more photos of Santiago murals here.
Urban Art Tours is still in trial stages. Once it's up and running, I would highly recommend it if you enjoy viewing and photographing street art.
From there, we walked down Santo Domingo, into Barrio Esmeralda, along the Mapocho River, and across into Bellavista. Our guide, Paola, was very well-versed because her boyfriend is a Chilean grafitero, a street artist. She explained the history of the art, the methods used to paint the murals, and the codes of conduct among the artists. We learned a bit about Chilean history and the back stories of the art, as well. See more photos of Santiago murals here.
Urban Art Tours is still in trial stages. Once it's up and running, I would highly recommend it if you enjoy viewing and photographing street art.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Same again, please
Since my return to Chile three weeks ago, I've noticed some changes that happened while I was away.
New buildings, like the hotel in this photo, are going up. I see signs of renovation and new construction everywhere. New restaurants, shops, and hotels are popping up like mushrooms in Bellas Artes and LaStarria.
Bike rental racks have appeared in random places, and lots of people are using them. Not just the tourists who mob barrio Bellas Artes, but Chileans, too, are riding around on the rented orange bikes.
I've also seen more police presence at the Metro stations, and since a bombing last year, plastic trash bags have been installed in the stations instead of the metal trash cans that used to be there.
Fewer people are smoking on the streets. It occurred to me that, while out running my daily errands, I no longer have to hold my breath when I pass by office buildings or walk behind someone in the street. There is less smoking going on since the Chilean government imposed a higher tax on cigarettes.
In my neighborhood, where we've always had street dogs lying around on corners during the day and sometimes running in packs at night, I have seen almost none since I got back. I don't know where they've gone, or why or how, but they're mostly gone from my immediate vicinity.
Some things, though, have remained the same. Last year, before I left, I went to Movistar, my local wifi provider, to cancel some of their services.
I was paying for a tri-pack which included home phone line, wifi, and TV cable. From the beginning the cable never worked right. You see, many buildings here were prewired for one company or their competition. My building is wired for Movistar wifi and VTR cable, so a tri-pack in this building is virtually impossible to provide.
The Movistar tech, Luis, came to install it all. Everything worked briefly, but after a couple of weeks, my cable was kaput. A call to Luis produced another week or two of TV viewing and, then, out again.
Every time he came by, he wanted a small "tip" so that he could "pay for parking." I began to suspect that he might have been cutting the cable himself since I learned that he had a storage unit in the basement and was here in the building every day. Finally, the cable started working consistently.
The phone line gave up the ghost in November of 2013. I used it so seldom that I didn't bother calling Luis to fix it, but in June 2014, the cable went out again. The concierge claimed that a VTR tech had come through and cut off all the illegally installed cables, including mine, which had been connected to VTR instead of Movistar. Luis offered to hook it up again for 25.000 pesos, about $50.
I lived without TV. Before I left last September, I went to the Movistar office to tell them that I wanted to reduce my service to only wifi since that's all I was receiving anyway. When the representative asked me why I wanted to reduce their service, I made the mistake of explaining to her exactly why.
She seemed appropriately incredulous, offered me a discount to continue with my tri-pack, promised that they would come out and make sure everything was working, and said that Movistar would investigate Luis.
When I left here in September, I gave my Chilean cell phone to a friend so that she could answer it when the technician called and make arrangements to meet him at my apartment. But of course, no pasa nada. The phone never rang.
My friend attempted to communicate with them to find out why no one had made contact, but something got lost in translation. Finally, I asked Vivi, my Spanish teacher, to phone Movistar. They told her that they "didn't have enough information" about the problems I was experiencing to send out a tech. What?! I would have to go into the office and make another complaint before they could send someone out.
Now I'm back and Luis is gone, but I still have no cable nor home phone. I went yesterday to the Movistar office, determined to insist that this time they reduce my service to wifi only.
I walked out of there with well-used landline phone, as a "gift," and a piece of paper which I'm praying has enough details that a tech can resolve my issues because, once again, those slick-talking thieves convinced me to stick with their tri-pack. The handsome young rep swore that someone would contact me "within days."
I'm giving them until Friday.
New buildings, like the hotel in this photo, are going up. I see signs of renovation and new construction everywhere. New restaurants, shops, and hotels are popping up like mushrooms in Bellas Artes and LaStarria.
Bike rental racks have appeared in random places, and lots of people are using them. Not just the tourists who mob barrio Bellas Artes, but Chileans, too, are riding around on the rented orange bikes.
I've also seen more police presence at the Metro stations, and since a bombing last year, plastic trash bags have been installed in the stations instead of the metal trash cans that used to be there.
Fewer people are smoking on the streets. It occurred to me that, while out running my daily errands, I no longer have to hold my breath when I pass by office buildings or walk behind someone in the street. There is less smoking going on since the Chilean government imposed a higher tax on cigarettes.
In my neighborhood, where we've always had street dogs lying around on corners during the day and sometimes running in packs at night, I have seen almost none since I got back. I don't know where they've gone, or why or how, but they're mostly gone from my immediate vicinity.
Some things, though, have remained the same. Last year, before I left, I went to Movistar, my local wifi provider, to cancel some of their services.
I was paying for a tri-pack which included home phone line, wifi, and TV cable. From the beginning the cable never worked right. You see, many buildings here were prewired for one company or their competition. My building is wired for Movistar wifi and VTR cable, so a tri-pack in this building is virtually impossible to provide.
The Movistar tech, Luis, came to install it all. Everything worked briefly, but after a couple of weeks, my cable was kaput. A call to Luis produced another week or two of TV viewing and, then, out again.
Every time he came by, he wanted a small "tip" so that he could "pay for parking." I began to suspect that he might have been cutting the cable himself since I learned that he had a storage unit in the basement and was here in the building every day. Finally, the cable started working consistently.
The phone line gave up the ghost in November of 2013. I used it so seldom that I didn't bother calling Luis to fix it, but in June 2014, the cable went out again. The concierge claimed that a VTR tech had come through and cut off all the illegally installed cables, including mine, which had been connected to VTR instead of Movistar. Luis offered to hook it up again for 25.000 pesos, about $50.
I lived without TV. Before I left last September, I went to the Movistar office to tell them that I wanted to reduce my service to only wifi since that's all I was receiving anyway. When the representative asked me why I wanted to reduce their service, I made the mistake of explaining to her exactly why.
She seemed appropriately incredulous, offered me a discount to continue with my tri-pack, promised that they would come out and make sure everything was working, and said that Movistar would investigate Luis.
When I left here in September, I gave my Chilean cell phone to a friend so that she could answer it when the technician called and make arrangements to meet him at my apartment. But of course, no pasa nada. The phone never rang.
My friend attempted to communicate with them to find out why no one had made contact, but something got lost in translation. Finally, I asked Vivi, my Spanish teacher, to phone Movistar. They told her that they "didn't have enough information" about the problems I was experiencing to send out a tech. What?! I would have to go into the office and make another complaint before they could send someone out.
Now I'm back and Luis is gone, but I still have no cable nor home phone. I went yesterday to the Movistar office, determined to insist that this time they reduce my service to wifi only.
I walked out of there with well-used landline phone, as a "gift," and a piece of paper which I'm praying has enough details that a tech can resolve my issues because, once again, those slick-talking thieves convinced me to stick with their tri-pack. The handsome young rep swore that someone would contact me "within days."
I'm giving them until Friday.
Labels:
A Million Sticky Kisses,
Chile,
Chilean culture,
expat,
life in Chile,
Santiago
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Ñam, ñam
This weekend, Santiago is hosting the Ñam food festival, a showcase of foods produced in Chile.
In front of me in this photo is a sandwich called chacarero. Mine was made on the Chilean bread staple, the marraqueta. It started with sliced beef, but not just any beef. This was wagyu.
I have all but given up eating beef here unless it's ground because I'm convinced that Chilean cows run up and down the Andes every day. Most beef here is tough, stringy, and dry. Eating it is like trying to chew shoe leather, but the wagyu was a different story. Tender, juicy, and flavorful.
So what's that other stuff on the sandwich? The red is obviously tomato, but what about those green things? That, folks, is green beans. A chacarero comes topped with sliced tomatoes and steamed green beans. This one was also slathered in a spicy sauce.
"Do you like picante?" asked the food truck lady.
"Picante, picante? Or Chilean picante?" I asked her because most things that Chileans consider spicy "hot" taste barely seasoned to me.
She mistook my question and replied, "Medio picante, entonces." You want slightly spicy.
"No, no. Full picante." I assured her.
My sandwich came dripping with hot sauce. As I balanced my plate to walk away, she handed me a pile of napkins. It was a good thing, too, because between the hot sauce, the juicy meat, and the green beans scattering like autumn leaves, it was a messy scene. Picante and, oh, so ñami.
In front of me in this photo is a sandwich called chacarero. Mine was made on the Chilean bread staple, the marraqueta. It started with sliced beef, but not just any beef. This was wagyu.
I have all but given up eating beef here unless it's ground because I'm convinced that Chilean cows run up and down the Andes every day. Most beef here is tough, stringy, and dry. Eating it is like trying to chew shoe leather, but the wagyu was a different story. Tender, juicy, and flavorful.
So what's that other stuff on the sandwich? The red is obviously tomato, but what about those green things? That, folks, is green beans. A chacarero comes topped with sliced tomatoes and steamed green beans. This one was also slathered in a spicy sauce.
"Do you like picante?" asked the food truck lady.
"Picante, picante? Or Chilean picante?" I asked her because most things that Chileans consider spicy "hot" taste barely seasoned to me.
She mistook my question and replied, "Medio picante, entonces." You want slightly spicy.
"No, no. Full picante." I assured her.
My sandwich came dripping with hot sauce. As I balanced my plate to walk away, she handed me a pile of napkins. It was a good thing, too, because between the hot sauce, the juicy meat, and the green beans scattering like autumn leaves, it was a messy scene. Picante and, oh, so ñami.
Labels:
A Million Sticky Kisses,
Chile,
expat,
food,
life in Chile,
Ñam,
Santiago,
South America
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Chiloé, the Lesser-Known Emerald Isle
I'm still sorting through photos of my magical trip to Chiloé, though this one might be my favorite.
As if its stunning natural beauty weren't reason enough to visit, it is home to sixteen patrimonial wooden churches which are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I visited five churches this time, so only eleven more to go next time I'm in Chiloé.
I spent three nights in Ancud, then another four nights in Castro. Janice, at Solo Travel Society, calls herself a solo BoBo. Part Bourgeois, part Bohemian traveler. That description might fit me, too. Being a "princess," I stayed in hotels in both places rather than in hostals, but though I was traveling alone, I had no trouble meeting fellow adventurers.
Along the way, I met a Finnish businessman, a Swiss couple, a French pharmacist, and an ESL teacher from the US who has been living in Saudia Arabia. I also met some good local tour guides and, finally, at the airport I met a teacher, who invited me to return to Chiloé to volunteer in her classes, and on the plane,a young Chilean movie producer.
The allure of the lesser-known emerald isle is difficult to describe. If you visit my Pinterest page, my photos can show you more than I could ever say.
As if its stunning natural beauty weren't reason enough to visit, it is home to sixteen patrimonial wooden churches which are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I visited five churches this time, so only eleven more to go next time I'm in Chiloé.
I spent three nights in Ancud, then another four nights in Castro. Janice, at Solo Travel Society, calls herself a solo BoBo. Part Bourgeois, part Bohemian traveler. That description might fit me, too. Being a "princess," I stayed in hotels in both places rather than in hostals, but though I was traveling alone, I had no trouble meeting fellow adventurers.
Along the way, I met a Finnish businessman, a Swiss couple, a French pharmacist, and an ESL teacher from the US who has been living in Saudia Arabia. I also met some good local tour guides and, finally, at the airport I met a teacher, who invited me to return to Chiloé to volunteer in her classes, and on the plane,a young Chilean movie producer.
The allure of the lesser-known emerald isle is difficult to describe. If you visit my Pinterest page, my photos can show you more than I could ever say.
Labels:
A Million Sticky Kisses,
attitude,
Chiloé,
expat,
life in Chile,
self-discovery,
South America,
travel
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Silence Is Golden in Castro, Chiloé
For lunch today, the hotel receptionist recommended a small restaurant near Castro's town square.
I made my way there and easily found the place, but it was mobbed, every table taken. There was a small round table for three out on the patio, but it had the remains of someone else's lunch still on it. One of the waiters motioned me over there anyway, mumbling something about clearing it, but I sat in front of a pile of dirty dishes for at least ten minutes before someone came to clear them away and take my order.
Meanwhile, a young man came in, carrying a yellow plastic bag. He hovered near my table, which put me on guard, but the waiters all greeted him as if he were a regular there. Next thing I knew, he said something to me that I had to ask him to repeat.
"¿Puedo almorzar en su mesa?" Can I eat lunch at your table?
Surely, I hadn't heard him right. In four years, I had never been asked to share a table at a restaurant in Chile. Most Chileans would be too polite, too embarrassed, or too timid to ever do so, but this young man was flaunting tradition. I nodded my assent and he sat down.
I had just spent yesterday touring around with another guest from my same hotel who had been Chatty Charlie. After that, I wasn't looking forward to a gabby lunch companion today, but I needn't have worried. Except for ordering, "Hector" was silent, scarfing down bread and double-dipping it into the spicy pebre. I tried not to think about any floating germs, as I tried to eat the pebre around the edges of the bowl.
In the end, we did talk a little. He was a Socialist from Santiago, here for work, who was curious about my political views. I think we were both surprised when we found some common ground. We raised our voices, but only so that we could hear each other over the guitar player to my right and the loudspeakers that blared Latin jazz on the other side.
He finished before I did and, as he left, he reached into his yellow bag and laid two apples in front of me. "From my tree," he said.
Silence is golden, but meeting new people is priceless.
I made my way there and easily found the place, but it was mobbed, every table taken. There was a small round table for three out on the patio, but it had the remains of someone else's lunch still on it. One of the waiters motioned me over there anyway, mumbling something about clearing it, but I sat in front of a pile of dirty dishes for at least ten minutes before someone came to clear them away and take my order.
Meanwhile, a young man came in, carrying a yellow plastic bag. He hovered near my table, which put me on guard, but the waiters all greeted him as if he were a regular there. Next thing I knew, he said something to me that I had to ask him to repeat.
"¿Puedo almorzar en su mesa?" Can I eat lunch at your table?
Surely, I hadn't heard him right. In four years, I had never been asked to share a table at a restaurant in Chile. Most Chileans would be too polite, too embarrassed, or too timid to ever do so, but this young man was flaunting tradition. I nodded my assent and he sat down.
I had just spent yesterday touring around with another guest from my same hotel who had been Chatty Charlie. After that, I wasn't looking forward to a gabby lunch companion today, but I needn't have worried. Except for ordering, "Hector" was silent, scarfing down bread and double-dipping it into the spicy pebre. I tried not to think about any floating germs, as I tried to eat the pebre around the edges of the bowl.
In the end, we did talk a little. He was a Socialist from Santiago, here for work, who was curious about my political views. I think we were both surprised when we found some common ground. We raised our voices, but only so that we could hear each other over the guitar player to my right and the loudspeakers that blared Latin jazz on the other side.
He finished before I did and, as he left, he reached into his yellow bag and laid two apples in front of me. "From my tree," he said.
Silence is golden, but meeting new people is priceless.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Welcome Back
Back in Chile and the cupboard is bare, so I went to Lider on Sunday afternoon to get a few essentials.
The place was swarming, but I managed to snag a head of broccoli and a packet of chicken before heading to the coffee aisle where their shelves were as bare as mine. Sitting there were 3 or 4 lonely bags of coffee. None of them my brand. There was Starbucks and Juan Valdez. Cha-ching!
Scrunched way in the back, I spotted one bag of something else. Some brand I'd never heard of, but was "Colombian." I grabbed it and was off to the body products aisle, looking for my brand of deodorant. I'd say that this was essential, especially since it's supposed to be 85º here today and higher tomorrow.
I use roll-on in the "powder" scent, Rexona. There was Rexona "powder," in a spray, but no roll-on to be had. There was another brand whose label had the same coloring and style. In my state of exhaustion, I nearly reached for it before I realized that it was not Rexona. At the last moment, I pulled back, feeling smug, and thinking, "Sneaky of them."
A stocker was nearby, so I stopped him to ask, "Where is the Rexona roll-on?"
I heard the dreaded words. "No me queda." We're out of it.
Sighing, I left Lider with only my chicken, broccoli, and packet of coffee. It was later that evening when I realized that the coffee I'd bought wasn't decaf. In my fog of jet lag, I had bought regular coffee which I no longer drink. Too tired to go out again in search of decaf, I resigned myself to drinking instant decaf, from my reserve tin, the next morning.
The following day, I went to a different Lider in another part of town. Same result, no decaf. in fact, no bags of coffee at all, and no Rexona roll-on, either.
Across the street, at a pharmacy, I found my Rexona. Happy that it hadn't been discontinued, I picked up two and stood in line to pay as person after person went ahead of me. Obviously, still jet lagged, I had forgotten that you need to pull a number from the ever-present red plastic dispenser by the door before they will wait on you. I sometimes wonder if I were the only person in the store, would I still have to pull a number?
It's a rhetorical question, of course, but the answer is "Probably."
The place was swarming, but I managed to snag a head of broccoli and a packet of chicken before heading to the coffee aisle where their shelves were as bare as mine. Sitting there were 3 or 4 lonely bags of coffee. None of them my brand. There was Starbucks and Juan Valdez. Cha-ching!
Scrunched way in the back, I spotted one bag of something else. Some brand I'd never heard of, but was "Colombian." I grabbed it and was off to the body products aisle, looking for my brand of deodorant. I'd say that this was essential, especially since it's supposed to be 85º here today and higher tomorrow.
I use roll-on in the "powder" scent, Rexona. There was Rexona "powder," in a spray, but no roll-on to be had. There was another brand whose label had the same coloring and style. In my state of exhaustion, I nearly reached for it before I realized that it was not Rexona. At the last moment, I pulled back, feeling smug, and thinking, "Sneaky of them."
A stocker was nearby, so I stopped him to ask, "Where is the Rexona roll-on?"
I heard the dreaded words. "No me queda." We're out of it.
Sighing, I left Lider with only my chicken, broccoli, and packet of coffee. It was later that evening when I realized that the coffee I'd bought wasn't decaf. In my fog of jet lag, I had bought regular coffee which I no longer drink. Too tired to go out again in search of decaf, I resigned myself to drinking instant decaf, from my reserve tin, the next morning.
The following day, I went to a different Lider in another part of town. Same result, no decaf. in fact, no bags of coffee at all, and no Rexona roll-on, either.
Across the street, at a pharmacy, I found my Rexona. Happy that it hadn't been discontinued, I picked up two and stood in line to pay as person after person went ahead of me. Obviously, still jet lagged, I had forgotten that you need to pull a number from the ever-present red plastic dispenser by the door before they will wait on you. I sometimes wonder if I were the only person in the store, would I still have to pull a number?
It's a rhetorical question, of course, but the answer is "Probably."
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Beat the Clock
I leave for Chile on Saturday and I am in "end game" mode. In a perfect world, I would have two of everything. One set in Chile and the other in the US. That way, I could just walk out the door with a toothbrush and a flight confirmation.
Alas, that's not my reality, so I am sorting through closets, cabinets, and drawers. Some things will go with me, some not. Some will be thrown out. Others, just stored for next time, whenever that is.
I'm eating down on food, rummaging through the fridge to create meals out of leftovers and frozen food. Asking myself how long flour lasts. Graham cracker crumbs? Should I try to save them or throw them out? Can they be stored in the freezer? Would spices still have any zip in six months if I stuck them in the freezer now?
Then, there are the things I want to bring back with me. I have accumulated so much s...tuff.
Not to mention the copies I ordered of "A Million Sticky Kisses." Worried that they wouldn't arrive in time to go with me, I paid extra for two day shipping. The two days were up on Tuesday. Today's Thursday and I still have no books. Lost in the mail, they say.
I'm running around here with my fingers crossed, playing another round of Beat the Clock, pushing everything right down to the wire, and wondering if taking copies of "Penny Possible" and "A Million Sticky Kisses" will make my suitcase overweight.
Alas, that's not my reality, so I am sorting through closets, cabinets, and drawers. Some things will go with me, some not. Some will be thrown out. Others, just stored for next time, whenever that is.
I'm eating down on food, rummaging through the fridge to create meals out of leftovers and frozen food. Asking myself how long flour lasts. Graham cracker crumbs? Should I try to save them or throw them out? Can they be stored in the freezer? Would spices still have any zip in six months if I stuck them in the freezer now?
Then, there are the things I want to bring back with me. I have accumulated so much s...tuff.
Not to mention the copies I ordered of "A Million Sticky Kisses." Worried that they wouldn't arrive in time to go with me, I paid extra for two day shipping. The two days were up on Tuesday. Today's Thursday and I still have no books. Lost in the mail, they say.
I'm running around here with my fingers crossed, playing another round of Beat the Clock, pushing everything right down to the wire, and wondering if taking copies of "Penny Possible" and "A Million Sticky Kisses" will make my suitcase overweight.
Labels:
A Million Sticky Kisses,
books,
expat,
life in Chile,
moving,
Penny Possible
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Am I Culturally Chilean Yet?
I recently ran across an article called 20 Signs You're Culturally Chilean, written by Elyssa Garrett and posted on Matador Network.
It lists twenty things that are uniquely Chilean. I found myself laughing out loud as I read through the list. At least half of them apply to me, particularly Nº.s 1, 2, 5, 6, 7... You get the idea.
Nº. 16, regarding Chilean wine, I absolutely claim. Not sure whether to be proud of that or embarrassed by it.
It lists twenty things that are uniquely Chilean. I found myself laughing out loud as I read through the list. At least half of them apply to me, particularly Nº.s 1, 2, 5, 6, 7... You get the idea.
Nº. 16, regarding Chilean wine, I absolutely claim. Not sure whether to be proud of that or embarrassed by it.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Shifting
"Are you missing Santiago at all?", my friend asked.Since moving to Chile in 2011, I had previously only left for the summer because hot weather and I are not friends and I have no air conditioner in Chile.
When I moved there, I went with the idea of permanency, but this year, I've been out of Chile more than not. I even bought a small condo in the US during one of my visits. So now I have a place to go when I'm not in Chile. It has air conditioning and central heating. Though it's a one-bedroom, it's almost double the size of my two-bedroom Santiago apartment. I have my own parking space and I can easily run to Walmart, Walgreen's, or Whole Foods at almost any time of the day or night.
Do I miss Chile at all? Yes. I prefer walking across the street and shopping at the woefully understocked Lider where I have to time my visits so that I'm not there immediately before work, during lunchtime, or after work unless I want to stand in a long line.
I miss tasty food that is not (yet) completely GMO-tainted, eating things that are in season like we used to do when I was a kid. I miss good olive oil and delicious, inexpensive wine. I even miss marraqueta.
I miss my view of the Andes Mountains though the snow is probably melted by now.
The Metro in Santiago is overcrowded and malfunctioned on a grand scale recently, but it generally works fairly well. And then there are the micros, buses, and also swarms of taxis, not exorbitantly priced. I dislike driving and I miss mass transit, awful as it can be, because apparently I'm a city chick.
I miss my friends and wonder if it's really possible to maintain intimate relationships long distance.
There are many things I don't miss too, but that's for another post. With one foot in Chile and the other in the US, I should feel balanced and grounded. Oddly, I feel just the opposite, as if I'm shifting from one foot to the other, not sure I belong in either place.
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