Horny Language

Driving in Chile is challenging. Maybe because we don’t know where we are going, don’t have a map, and can’t read the road signs. But maybe it’s because we don’t know the language of the horns.

You have to have thick skin to drive here. In most parts of the US, a horn honk simply means “you !#*$@!*#*!”. But here it can mean a variety of things. There are friendly beep/honk combinations that mean things like “Do you need a ride?” (from a taxi), “Hello (friend walking down the street), I’m passing by and waving!” and the popular machismo “Hey good looking!”.

But there are others that are not so friendly. The simple “beep beep” means “please pardon me, but I intend on invading your personal space and getting way too close”. A “honk-honk-honk” means “There’s a ditch over there and if you don’t want to end up in it I suggest you let me by”. One loud “HOOONNKK” seems to mean “Gringo on the road, let’s get her!”

I have my own honk language: one “beep” means “whoops, I was going for the windshield wiper and my hand slipped”; a “whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop!” means “crud, my car alarm is going off and I can’t stop it”; and a long sustained “hooooooooooooooonnkk” means “I dropped my candy bar on the floor and can only reach it if I press my ear against the steering wheel”.

I’m sure that all those horns honking are not directed at me. I mean, I’m a great driver. But today, I must admit, I did hear a lot of them. It must be because I am so good looking.

Sisma

40

It’s a number with many historical references: The people of Israel wandered the desert for 40 years; its been 40 years since the “Fab Four’s” final concert; and 40 years ago, my husband made his appearance on this earth and muttered “Where’s my coffee?”

This week Ciervo celebrated his 40th birthday. Our first opportunity to commemorate something other than “first successful gas station visit” or “first day we got our TV to work”. But we celebrated the same way: by going out for ice cream.

We found a wonderful heladaria nearby. Its about a 40 minute (roundtrip) after-dinner stroll.

The number 40 is a big part of our lives: We drove 40 miles into the Andes last weekend, making it the furthest we’ve ventured out of Santiago without a translator along. It’s over 40 steps that we have to climb to get to our apartment since the elevator is broken, but less than 40 steps from the front of school to the first candy bar street vendor. My favorite cookie is about 40 calories, making my favorite 40 minute run just about right to burn off the few I ate for breakfast.

Rain fell on Noah for 40 days and 40 nights, and while it hasn’t been raining the whole time, we will soon be marking our 40th day in this soggy, skinny country. We have just over 40 weeks left.

I have been married to Ciervo for 40% of his life. During that time, he’s been a wonderful husband, friend and father. I love him dearly and look forward 40 more years of celebratory heladaria visits with him.

Sisma

A Needle in a Haystack

Yesterday I went seeking dinner and a needle and thread to hem Sarafina's school uniform pants (which are 6" too long) at the local Jumbo (think Super Target). I started looking for a needle in the domestics aisle. When I didn't find it there, I tried cleaning supplies, craft supplies, the home department, office supplies, paper products, books, toys, and car repair (I was getting desperate). Giving up on the needle, I turned my attention to food.

You'd think that under the sign "bebidas" (which directly translates to "drinks"), you'd find, well, drinks. No. Juice is by the chips. Wine is by the household items. Milk is sold in boxes or bags (yes, bags) in unrefrigerated aisle 14.

If you need ingredients for cookies, start in the baking aisle. There you'll find baking powder, flour, jello, canned tomatoes and rice. Baking soda is with the oils, on the other side of the store. Sugar is there too, except brown sugar which is in the "special dietary needs" section. Eggs are in produce next to the lettuce. Rethink the $9.50 Pam cooking spray. Chocolate chips don't exist. You can find the milk in a bag down aisle 14.

The produce is in the middle of the store, with the peanuts. Except for the bananas, they are sold on an end case on aisle 14. Pick up a bag of milk while you're there.

Cheese is in the frozen food case, next to the ice cream. Sliced stuff is by the yogurt or meats, depending on what you're looking for. Unless you want cheddar which doesn't exist.

The following things are sold in bags: Milk, spices, jam, juice, mayo, catsup, milk, laundry detergent, hand soap, yogurt, olive oil, milk, tomato sauce, mustard, shoe polish, floor cleaner and milk.

Pasta is next to the (bags of) jam, and crackers are in the bakery. Breakfast items such as oatmeal, cereal and pancake mix are all in different aisles. None of them are with the bags of milk.

Frozen veggies are always a nice staple to have around. You'll find those by the cosmetics.

Two hours later, I have enough food to last a day. And I even found thread to hem Sarafina's pants. It was clearly displayed next to the socks. I'll go back tomorrow to continue my quest for a needle. I didn't check by the milk.

Sisma

Pichilemu and a foreign accent

Yes, it took me until the end of the weekend before I could pronounce it to, but its easier once I saw the name of the country hidden in the word (Pi – chile – mu). Pichilemu is a costal town about 2 1/2 hours southwest of Santiago. We went with friends who have a house there. It was cold, but we had great fun and the company was muy bueno.




If the house had been any closer to the water our beds would have been wet. It was small and cozy, and there was a fantastic restaurant called Costa Luna within walking distance. Was it the food, Amaretto, or the warm fire they had going that I liked best?

We walked the beach and collected seashells. Pichilemu is a big surfer resort, and despite the cold, there was many a Chileno riding the waves. Burrrr.



On another note, Sarafina has perfected a darling new accent. We knew the girls would be the first. Her close school friend (Needia) has worn off on her. It should be noted, however, that Needia is from England. So yes, our daughter now speaks perfect Queen's English. Smashing.

Sisma

Now we're cookin'

Cooking here has been an interesting experience. Kitchens are small and from what we are used to, poorly equipped. Some of what we lack we just need to buy – like measuring cups and a sharp knife. But other aspects of this little kitchen we’ll just have to get used to.

I’m getting to know my mini-oven/stovetop combo. To turn it on, I have to strike a match, turn on the gas and light the unit on the inside bottom. It’s easiest to do sitting on the floor. There is a temperature knob, but it’s like trying to control the temperature of a grill. Really, it’s just on or off. There is no timer.

The stove top is a little better, but I still have to strike a match every time. Keep lots of fosforos on hand or you’re eating dinner raw.

The fridge is new (yay!) but small (duh). Clean your plate because there is no room for leftovers. Being a food packrat is not an option.

We do not have a toaster, blender, mixer, or coffee maker. Forget about a food processor, crock pot, ice dispenser, garbage disposal, carving knife, wok, espresso maker, bread machine, waffle iron, ice cream maker, juicer, trash compactor, panini press, deep fryer, pasta maker, fondue pot, or George Foreman grill.

Regardless, you are all invited over for dinner anytime. I make a mean Pancutra and will try Pollo a la Naranja this weekend. Right now I gotta go – I have galettas in the oven and I don’t know how long they’ve been cooking.

Sisma

Our Apartment

We love our new home! It’s a cute little departamento on a street called Hernando de Aguirre in the barrio (i.e., hood) of Providencia. It has two bedrooms and a third room that we use as a small office. Picture me there now. The living and eating areas are small, but we fit. The girls and I made a wonderful dinner in the tiny kitchen last night. The picture attached was taken from our balcony. Yes, those are the Andes.

But the best thing about our apartment is not what’s inside, it’s what’s outside. Hernando de Aguirre is a lovely street just a few blocks from the girl’s school, a metro station, and a grocery store. A fruitiera just around the corner sells wonderful fresh fruits and vegetables. The park is just a couple blocks in one direction, and El Golf, a prestigious area of town with great restaurants and stores is a few blocks away in the other. We pass our church on the way.

The best thing about walking everywhere is all the hand holding. Not only do I get to walk my girls to school, the store, the park, etc., but I get to hold their hands along the way. We go for walks after dinner and just talk as a family. The girls love it and we do too. I do miss communication with other adults, but Margarita and Sarafina are bright, intelligent, warm, and fun people to be around and I'm enjoying them as companions.

I’m still looking forward to having adult friends and hope to find opportunities to make some after the girls start school. But today, we’re going to the park. It’s a little cold outside, but I won’t need gloves.

Sisma