Monday, August 18
This was never on my list but....
So, I was robbed. Of everything. My passport, my journals, my money, my credit cards, my drivers license, just everything. Luckily I have people who love me who took me in and are taking care of me, but basically, it sucks. Any pity or presents from people who feel sorry for me will be taken completely shamelessly. This could be in the form of food, jewelery, back scratches, or a starbucks frappucino. I´m even taking sexual favors if the feeling so strikes you. Anyway, needless to say I am no longer taking my fabulous two week trip, and at this point I´m still kinda bitter. This may have something to do with the fact that people just looked at me while the guy ran off with my purse and offered no assistance as I got up and debated whether I should run after him and leave my big suitcase of expensive things or if I should stay with said suitcase and watch him run across the parking lot of the bus terminal to the freedom of Santiago Central, which now has a very nice leather Guess wallet running around (although I got it for a steal, my mom was very proud. Yes, that pun was intended). I have to admit I blame myself, because you always think you could have done something more to prevent it. Like dyeing my hair. As someone who used to be my friend said, that´s how you learn. I´m contemplating stealing his balls to help him learn too, since it is apparently something he values so much, and is happy I experienced. I will bounce back I´m sure but for now I will be the cynical Jessica we all almost forgot existed. If you see a blond walking around Santiago with murder in her eyes, watch out. She´s out for blood.
Thursday, August 14
The Inability to Commit
Ok, so it has been FOREVER since I posted. And honestly, it is because everytime I came on here and saw how far behind I was, I felt overwhelmed, especially since I usually came on to write about something unrelated to my father´s trip, which is of course still chronologically first in the line up. But then I realized-I don´t have to stick to a timeline! There are no rules and regulations about blogs, and if I want to write about something random and break up a timeline, I am completely entitled to do it. I strangely feel I am sticking it to the man, or perhaps just my high school english teachers and their 5 paragraph essay, and I must say it feels good.
So, no worries, I will get back on track, but in the meantime, I have to talk about this topic.
For those of you who know me very well, or for a long time are very aware of the almost pathetically bad track record I have with close friends. There will always be Chandra and Lacy, to whom I am eternally indebted for showing me you can have faith in at least a small portion of the population, but for the most part I´ve been taught time and time again to not have too much faith in people. I am unfortunately a very very trusting person by nature, so this lesson never seems to stick.
My mala suerte, so to speak began at the ripe age of 3 with my first best friens, Ryanna, who showed me what it was to be stabbed in the back. She would constantly use me as her court joker when we were around other children, though we were the best of friends behind closed doors. Being so young, I didn´t really understand this act, or where it was coming from, and I was severely hurt, but thought if I was a better friend, or had tougher skin as all the adults told me I would get over it. It was MY problem, and I needed to firgure out what was wrong with me.
Fast forward to college, and I found history to repeat itself pretty often. Every few years, with each new coming of age I found a new friend who might not be as cruel as Ry, but it was pretty much the same story. I had moved before high school, and even switched school in the middle, and I found people to be rather unchanging in this particular area. Again, all of this simply enforces the fact that it is me. So I began to try even more desperately to change myself, anything and everything about myself to try to stop this awful cycle.
Of course those close to me know to what lengths I went, and I have to say at some point throughout college I really truly did change, I think for the better, and I seemed to find some sort of balance. I seemed to be able to pick out those people who would be my true friends more easily, and brush off the hurt from those who were obviously not for me. Well, then came my 21st birthday, where I learned once again not to count on people. And I again learned there must be something wrong with me.
I find it ironic I be writing this now, because pretty much every gringa blogger, Kyle, Emily, Heather, Emita :) have written on the topic of Chileans as untrustworthy, and untrusting, and thus impossible to make friends with. Being here for such a short time, I feel I cannot entirely appreciate this sentiment, because I still know I´m going back home in a short while-or at least to another country with new friend oppurtunities.
While here I have made some great latin friends. Not Chilean tho, mostly Venezuelan. One of them I even think I will be friends with long after I leave Chile. She and her husband are the kind of people I would come visit Chile for. Having said that, they recently went on vacation, which I was supposed to join them on. But due to their chaning their plans a million times and not consulting me once, I ended up not being able to go. It turned into them ignoring me as I texted 10 times in a day. I missed my oppurtunity to travel to other places because they were so inconsiderate of even telling me their plans. I still love them dearly, but once again I feel I have learned to take care of my needs first, because that´s what everyone else does, and if you don´t as well you get left behind.
Unlike many of my fellow bloggers, I don´t think this is a cultural thing. I don´t know if I am just super lucky in meeting these kinds of people all over the world, or if I attract them, or if I am a lover of misery, but this kind of thing happens to me everywhere, all the time, with everyone. The only person I know who is reliable is my boyfriend, and since he cares for me on such a different level, I´m not sure he counts as a ´normal´person.
So what is a gringa to do? Am I to stop trusting people, and always put my needs and plans first to assure my own success? Am I supposed to adopt the Chilean people filter to an extent of shutting out everyone short of those who´ve shed blood for me? I honestly don´t know. Somehow I just don´t think I can. I´m not sure I can ever stop thinking it´s me, and I´m not sure I want to stop believing in the best of people. Perhaps what I need to focus on is not becoming hurt at such actions, rather than avoiding them altogether. A lesson that keeps on giving apparently.
P.S. If you think it´s me too, please let me know ;)
So, no worries, I will get back on track, but in the meantime, I have to talk about this topic.
For those of you who know me very well, or for a long time are very aware of the almost pathetically bad track record I have with close friends. There will always be Chandra and Lacy, to whom I am eternally indebted for showing me you can have faith in at least a small portion of the population, but for the most part I´ve been taught time and time again to not have too much faith in people. I am unfortunately a very very trusting person by nature, so this lesson never seems to stick.
My mala suerte, so to speak began at the ripe age of 3 with my first best friens, Ryanna, who showed me what it was to be stabbed in the back. She would constantly use me as her court joker when we were around other children, though we were the best of friends behind closed doors. Being so young, I didn´t really understand this act, or where it was coming from, and I was severely hurt, but thought if I was a better friend, or had tougher skin as all the adults told me I would get over it. It was MY problem, and I needed to firgure out what was wrong with me.
Fast forward to college, and I found history to repeat itself pretty often. Every few years, with each new coming of age I found a new friend who might not be as cruel as Ry, but it was pretty much the same story. I had moved before high school, and even switched school in the middle, and I found people to be rather unchanging in this particular area. Again, all of this simply enforces the fact that it is me. So I began to try even more desperately to change myself, anything and everything about myself to try to stop this awful cycle.
Of course those close to me know to what lengths I went, and I have to say at some point throughout college I really truly did change, I think for the better, and I seemed to find some sort of balance. I seemed to be able to pick out those people who would be my true friends more easily, and brush off the hurt from those who were obviously not for me. Well, then came my 21st birthday, where I learned once again not to count on people. And I again learned there must be something wrong with me.
I find it ironic I be writing this now, because pretty much every gringa blogger, Kyle, Emily, Heather, Emita :) have written on the topic of Chileans as untrustworthy, and untrusting, and thus impossible to make friends with. Being here for such a short time, I feel I cannot entirely appreciate this sentiment, because I still know I´m going back home in a short while-or at least to another country with new friend oppurtunities.
While here I have made some great latin friends. Not Chilean tho, mostly Venezuelan. One of them I even think I will be friends with long after I leave Chile. She and her husband are the kind of people I would come visit Chile for. Having said that, they recently went on vacation, which I was supposed to join them on. But due to their chaning their plans a million times and not consulting me once, I ended up not being able to go. It turned into them ignoring me as I texted 10 times in a day. I missed my oppurtunity to travel to other places because they were so inconsiderate of even telling me their plans. I still love them dearly, but once again I feel I have learned to take care of my needs first, because that´s what everyone else does, and if you don´t as well you get left behind.
Unlike many of my fellow bloggers, I don´t think this is a cultural thing. I don´t know if I am just super lucky in meeting these kinds of people all over the world, or if I attract them, or if I am a lover of misery, but this kind of thing happens to me everywhere, all the time, with everyone. The only person I know who is reliable is my boyfriend, and since he cares for me on such a different level, I´m not sure he counts as a ´normal´person.
So what is a gringa to do? Am I to stop trusting people, and always put my needs and plans first to assure my own success? Am I supposed to adopt the Chilean people filter to an extent of shutting out everyone short of those who´ve shed blood for me? I honestly don´t know. Somehow I just don´t think I can. I´m not sure I can ever stop thinking it´s me, and I´m not sure I want to stop believing in the best of people. Perhaps what I need to focus on is not becoming hurt at such actions, rather than avoiding them altogether. A lesson that keeps on giving apparently.
P.S. If you think it´s me too, please let me know ;)
Sunday, July 27
Day 4: Valle Nevado
This day was definitely a highlight of the trip! We went skiing at Valle Nevado, which was beautiful and amazing, and fantastic, until Dad realized his foot wouldn´t let him ski. That was a bummer.
To get there we used a bus service up the mountain, which was really a great way to go. I don´t know if we got lucky with the service I chose, or if we had an awesome driver, but I have to tell you, we passed at least 20 cars stranded on the side of the rode, unable to drive through the snow, and our driver was just zipping by, passing everyone we came along. I did think we were going to fall off the mountain at points, and I think we all were a little motion sick by the end, but the journey was almost as entertaining as the actual mountain!
The snow was absolutely fantastic! It was powdery, and incredibly fast, and I swear anyone could be a good skier on Chilean snow. I felt like a duck in water, it was all beautiful and breathtaking, and honestly just overwhelming. Unfortunately Dad couldn´t make past one run, and he was pretty upset about it, but I was still able to make a few runs, and managed to meet someone from New York, which I found amusing. I have to say I almost forgot what it´s like to ski on a real mountain, where the lift takes 10 minutes and you have to ski miles down the mountain. But it was phenomenal. Anyone who loves to ski HAS to come to Chile, their snow absolutely can´t be beat.
To get there we used a bus service up the mountain, which was really a great way to go. I don´t know if we got lucky with the service I chose, or if we had an awesome driver, but I have to tell you, we passed at least 20 cars stranded on the side of the rode, unable to drive through the snow, and our driver was just zipping by, passing everyone we came along. I did think we were going to fall off the mountain at points, and I think we all were a little motion sick by the end, but the journey was almost as entertaining as the actual mountain!
The snow was absolutely fantastic! It was powdery, and incredibly fast, and I swear anyone could be a good skier on Chilean snow. I felt like a duck in water, it was all beautiful and breathtaking, and honestly just overwhelming. Unfortunately Dad couldn´t make past one run, and he was pretty upset about it, but I was still able to make a few runs, and managed to meet someone from New York, which I found amusing. I have to say I almost forgot what it´s like to ski on a real mountain, where the lift takes 10 minutes and you have to ski miles down the mountain. But it was phenomenal. Anyone who loves to ski HAS to come to Chile, their snow absolutely can´t be beat.
Day 3: La Chascona
Now, we had been planning on going skiing, but were told it was going to rain, which of course it did. But that meant we got to go to one of the places I was really looking forward to!
La Chascona is Pablo Neruda´s third home in Chile. La Chascona translates literally as crazy haired woman, and was so named after his third wife, Matilde, who is generally considered the love of his life. She had crazy wild red hair, thus the name. He also has a house in Valparaíso, and one in Isla Negra as well, which are both on the coast of Chile. I have to admit, Dad was not so excited, probably because he had never heard of Pablo Neruda before, which I honestly find amazing, because of his nobel prize and the fact that he is considered by many the best poet ever, if not the 20th century, and is widely respected for his strong communistic ideals.
I actually have loved Neruda since we studied poetry in high school, where I was first introduced to the beauty of his poems. He is one of the reasons I chose to come to Chile, as he often wrote fondly of the beauty of nature, which was obviously inspired by his homecountry.
Neruda loved the sea, and his house reflects this. It is built with very short cielings and narrow corridors to mimic a ship, with portholes and secret rooms, and even creaking floors, specially built to mimic the creaking of a ship deck. He was a pack rat, and being an ambassador to so many countries he had quite the collection, from Russian dolls, to enlarged shoes, to paintings. My favorite painting was by the husband of Frida, who is Diego Rivera I believe? I´ll check after I post to make sure. It was of Matilde, but two forms of her face, one profile, and one face on, representing the two stages of their relationship, when she was his mistress and then once they were mairried. A profile of Neruda himself is hidden in her hair. It´s quite beautiful, and a little haunting.
Although my dad was skeptical at first, he really enjoyed our trip! He got into it, asking lots of questions, wanting to know about Neruda´s politics and Pinochet, and all sorts of interesting stuff. The rain didn´t allow us to do much for the rest of the day, but La Chascona was wonderful!
La Chascona is Pablo Neruda´s third home in Chile. La Chascona translates literally as crazy haired woman, and was so named after his third wife, Matilde, who is generally considered the love of his life. She had crazy wild red hair, thus the name. He also has a house in Valparaíso, and one in Isla Negra as well, which are both on the coast of Chile. I have to admit, Dad was not so excited, probably because he had never heard of Pablo Neruda before, which I honestly find amazing, because of his nobel prize and the fact that he is considered by many the best poet ever, if not the 20th century, and is widely respected for his strong communistic ideals.
I actually have loved Neruda since we studied poetry in high school, where I was first introduced to the beauty of his poems. He is one of the reasons I chose to come to Chile, as he often wrote fondly of the beauty of nature, which was obviously inspired by his homecountry.
Neruda loved the sea, and his house reflects this. It is built with very short cielings and narrow corridors to mimic a ship, with portholes and secret rooms, and even creaking floors, specially built to mimic the creaking of a ship deck. He was a pack rat, and being an ambassador to so many countries he had quite the collection, from Russian dolls, to enlarged shoes, to paintings. My favorite painting was by the husband of Frida, who is Diego Rivera I believe? I´ll check after I post to make sure. It was of Matilde, but two forms of her face, one profile, and one face on, representing the two stages of their relationship, when she was his mistress and then once they were mairried. A profile of Neruda himself is hidden in her hair. It´s quite beautiful, and a little haunting.
Although my dad was skeptical at first, he really enjoyed our trip! He got into it, asking lots of questions, wanting to know about Neruda´s politics and Pinochet, and all sorts of interesting stuff. The rain didn´t allow us to do much for the rest of the day, but La Chascona was wonderful!
Day 2: Santa Lucía and Canadian TV
So the second day of my dear father´s visit we did a few things. We first of all met and had breakfast at a little café near him, of which there were many. I then took him to climb my favorite cerro, Santa Lucía. I love that place, and luckily, my dad loved it too! Of course, I think I may have almost killed him, especially considering he had his hurt foot, but I kept asking if he wanted to stop! And he did great. Unfortunately it was pretty foggy, so we didn´t get the spectacular view I got on my first trip to the top.
Afterwards, the father was pretty pooped, so we went back to his hotel, where he promptly fell asleep, and I got to watch Canadian television. I can´t even remember all the movies I watched, like the one about the boy who almost won the Boston marathon and couldn´t stop masturbating in the pool, or the Canadian secret service which made no money whatsoever. However, they were surprisingly funny, and I no longer think Canada is good for nothing but caribou, so I feel our rest time had a purpose.
That night we went to dinner at R, a great restaurant where I had probably the most delicious spinach and mushroom omelette of my entire life! The ambience is beautiful, and our waiters were very nice and helpful, I would absolutely reccomend it to anyone looking for a relaxing dinner.
Afterwards, the father was pretty pooped, so we went back to his hotel, where he promptly fell asleep, and I got to watch Canadian television. I can´t even remember all the movies I watched, like the one about the boy who almost won the Boston marathon and couldn´t stop masturbating in the pool, or the Canadian secret service which made no money whatsoever. However, they were surprisingly funny, and I no longer think Canada is good for nothing but caribou, so I feel our rest time had a purpose.
That night we went to dinner at R, a great restaurant where I had probably the most delicious spinach and mushroom omelette of my entire life! The ambience is beautiful, and our waiters were very nice and helpful, I would absolutely reccomend it to anyone looking for a relaxing dinner.
Wednesday, July 23
Father´s Epic-Day 1: Good food, Good ice cream, Perhaps too good wine
So, my father arrived quite early in the morning one thursday a few weeks ago. He was able to get a cab and take it to my place quite successfully, and even was able to ask the cab driver about Chilean beer. Their conversation went like this:
Padre: Cerveza? De chile? Bueno?
Cab driver: Cerveza de chile? (tone of incredulity) ehhhhh...
This was followed by who knows what because my father did not understand.
So we settled him into my place for the day, until he meandered his way down to Universidad Católica for lunch. I took him to Emporio La Rosa, which is of course a standard favorite of mine, and we each got a type of salad, and of course some ice cream afterward! I literally had to force him to let me ask for sample tastes because he refused to admit he might want to try something. I have determined that people in a foreign country often feel they are getting in the way of the people there who actually know what they´re doing, and thus even when it perfectly acceptable to ask a question or try something new, they don´t for fear of being a bother and looking stupid. I know I had that problem when I first got here, and it was odd for me to see my father that way as well.
The whole trip was a role reversal, since my father spoke none of the laguage, and relied on me for pretty much everything. Also, since he had hurt his foot, it made him even doubly in need of looking after and caring for, which turned me into a parent and him into a child. We decided it was good practice for the future in which he really will be dependent on me, and I will have to take care of my parents in a new fashion.
After lunch we found him a hotel for the night since his foot was hurting too badly for him to go hiking. We found a nice hotel, which of course spoke absolutely no english called Kapital, on the corner of Merced y Santa Lucía. Great rooms, very cute and cozy, but let me tell you, from my father´s experience, when you speak to people in english, even in hotels, THEY WILL NOT UNDERSTAND YOU. THE EFFORT IS FUTILE. A lesson I think my father managed to learn by the end of our trip, and one which would have probably made his life a whole lot harder if I hadn´t been there, and let´s face it, my spanish isn´t all that great to begin with.
That night we had dinner near where I work, at a restaurant called Patagonia. We went to a movie before this, but I think that movie deserves it´s own post. The restaurant was great, our waiter spoke english and actually his sister went to NYU (small world) and as we delighted on Chilean wine, the inevitable happened. My father and I started fighting. I will not go into the epic battle that raged that night, but let´s just say I think we both are going to pretend it never happened.
However, we did get to try the Caménère varietal of wine, which is delicious, and is a grape only found in Chile. It originally came from France, but a disease wiped out every single known plant, until a few were found growing in Chile! It is now carefully watched over and cultivated, and I gotta tell you, you gotta try it! If you wanna learn more, check out this wikipedia link
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carmenere
Padre: Cerveza? De chile? Bueno?
Cab driver: Cerveza de chile? (tone of incredulity) ehhhhh...
This was followed by who knows what because my father did not understand.
So we settled him into my place for the day, until he meandered his way down to Universidad Católica for lunch. I took him to Emporio La Rosa, which is of course a standard favorite of mine, and we each got a type of salad, and of course some ice cream afterward! I literally had to force him to let me ask for sample tastes because he refused to admit he might want to try something. I have determined that people in a foreign country often feel they are getting in the way of the people there who actually know what they´re doing, and thus even when it perfectly acceptable to ask a question or try something new, they don´t for fear of being a bother and looking stupid. I know I had that problem when I first got here, and it was odd for me to see my father that way as well.
The whole trip was a role reversal, since my father spoke none of the laguage, and relied on me for pretty much everything. Also, since he had hurt his foot, it made him even doubly in need of looking after and caring for, which turned me into a parent and him into a child. We decided it was good practice for the future in which he really will be dependent on me, and I will have to take care of my parents in a new fashion.
After lunch we found him a hotel for the night since his foot was hurting too badly for him to go hiking. We found a nice hotel, which of course spoke absolutely no english called Kapital, on the corner of Merced y Santa Lucía. Great rooms, very cute and cozy, but let me tell you, from my father´s experience, when you speak to people in english, even in hotels, THEY WILL NOT UNDERSTAND YOU. THE EFFORT IS FUTILE. A lesson I think my father managed to learn by the end of our trip, and one which would have probably made his life a whole lot harder if I hadn´t been there, and let´s face it, my spanish isn´t all that great to begin with.
That night we had dinner near where I work, at a restaurant called Patagonia. We went to a movie before this, but I think that movie deserves it´s own post. The restaurant was great, our waiter spoke english and actually his sister went to NYU (small world) and as we delighted on Chilean wine, the inevitable happened. My father and I started fighting. I will not go into the epic battle that raged that night, but let´s just say I think we both are going to pretend it never happened.
However, we did get to try the Caménère varietal of wine, which is delicious, and is a grape only found in Chile. It originally came from France, but a disease wiped out every single known plant, until a few were found growing in Chile! It is now carefully watched over and cultivated, and I gotta tell you, you gotta try it! If you wanna learn more, check out this wikipedia link
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carmenere
Father came for a visit!
I know, I´ve been a bad blogger once again! But this time I have a really good excuse.
My dad came to visit! We had a great time, did some skiing, ate at some great restaurants, went south on a road trip and climbed a volcanic mountain. It was some really good times. I´m obviously going to post on everything individually, but just thought I´d put this out there until the rest came!
My dad came to visit! We had a great time, did some skiing, ate at some great restaurants, went south on a road trip and climbed a volcanic mountain. It was some really good times. I´m obviously going to post on everything individually, but just thought I´d put this out there until the rest came!
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