Running Wild

Running is popular in Santiago. Every day you see people running from traffic, pushy street vendors, and, on occasion, the law. Considering they all stay up so late, I’m sure everyone is running behind.

I love that I have the opportunity to run. I feel safe jogging on the beautiful tree-lined paths that stretch down the middle of the busy, polluted roads. There are plenty of stray, flea-infested, rabid dogs to protect me (perrovagos). Stopping every 500 feet to cross another street gives me ample opportunity to rest, retie my shoes, and write a few postcards. The tree limbs are all manicured so that an average 5’4” Chilean can confidently walk underneath. Despite the crick in my neck, I haven’t run into any problems.

I also found two friends with which to run: littlecathytalksalot and lookslikebarbierunstoofast. Both are Norteamericanos who keep me on my toes. While they could never replace my friends back home (shewhorunswithoutpartner, onewhorunswhennotinjured and doesnotchatpat), they do feed my addiction.

We all have a lot to keep us moving here. I ran my mouth off about wanting to do a race and am now committed to doing the Buenos Aires Marathon at the end of October. Running through Ciervo’s mind is which triathlon he will do here in 2007. Margarita has started running her mouth, a lovely pre-teen trait for our 7 year old. Sarafina had the runs but seems to be better now.

To train, Ciervo and I joined a triathlon group called FullRunners. With all that I am eating, the term describes me perfectly. I chase them on Saturday mornings and Ciervo keeps his tires pumped up for Sunday bike rides. They smile at us when we arrive and seem to say kind Spanish things. But again with the language barrier: perhaps they are not a training group at all, but are just running to get away from us.

Sisma

Diesiocho – Independence Day

Chile declared its independence from Spain on September 18, 1810. Chileans celebrate Diesiocho with much fanfare, and, like other free countries, define independence as “nayh, nayh, now we can do whatever we want”. And so they do.

We joined in the fun and attended a fonda (huge municipal BBQ) where local huasos (cowboys) danced the cueca (the national dance) with their horses. Odd, yet captivating. Then, the carabineros (police force) put on a spectacular demonstration by riding - at full gallop - in a pyramid formation on top of their horses across the stadium. It didn’t look legal to me. The next day, we watched a military parade in downtown Valparaiso where the army, navy and air force bands played while the troops sang the Chilean national anthem to the crowd. Now I understand how multi-talented armed forces benefit a country at peacetime.

The meal of the day is chorzipan, which is similar to bratwurst but not as healthy. Brave souls partake in chincha which is a nasty drink made from grapes before they are ripe enough for wine. Those of us more cerebrally endowed wait for the Merlot.

We love our independence down here, and try very hard to enjoy our freedoms within the laws of the land. We are learning that all-night parties that keep your American neighbors awake are perfectly legal. Watching Ciervo dance the cueca, while legal, should be outlawed. Chincha is just a bad idea, but you won’t be arrested for it. However, we learned the hard way that it is definitely illegal to park in front of homes in Valparasio. We half expected the carabineros to break into a song and dance, but they instead wrote us a parking ticket. Crabby carabineros must have fallen off the pyramid.

Today, the city recovers, as do we. As we emerge from our chorzipan induced comas, we are reminded how fortunate we are to have the freedom to travel abroad, experience different traditions and customs, and embarrass ourselves in a whole new country.

(The pictures are of Margartia with Katalina, and Sarafina with Miriana at the fonda. They are our Chilean friends who lived in Boulder and just moved back to Santiago)

Sisma

Empanadas

Empanadas are the “hot dogs” of Chile. They are sold everywhere and every occasion is an empanada opportunity. Ciervo loves empanadas, so I’m committed to learning how to make them. I gave it a try the other night, and want to share my instructions on making the perfect empanada. (Please remember my lack of cooking utensils, formal recipe and general cooking knowledge.)

1) Heat a smattering of oil in “the skillet that burns everything” until hot. Add some onion and garlic and cook until dark brown. Throw out and start again.

2) Add some ground beef to second successful onion/garlic sauté. Turn the heat down because it’s all you have left. Get excited and add too much cumin. Drown out the cumin with too much salt. Add pepper because it’s the only other spice you have.

3) Once the beef is cooked, add the golden raisins you spent an hour looking for at the Jumbo. Mix with wooden spoon, spilling ½ of it over the side. Set aside.

4) To make the dough, mix some flour, water, and a giant spoonful butter together until it looks like dough. Add salt because it seems like the right thing to do.

5) Roll out small pieces of dough using the side of a drinking glass. Find this next to impossible and swear at the dough.

6) Grab a handful of chips and stuff them in your mouth because they are there.

7) Add a mound of meat to the middle of doughball and fold over pressing the edges together. Get angry because it doesn’t look like the ones in the store.

8) Bake them with the oven in the “on” position until edges are burnt and middle is not quite cooked through. Swear again. Open a bottle of wine and get out the guacamole for the chips.

9) Make some interesting creation with the rest of the meat mixture and yesterday’s leftover pasta and say you planned it that way. It doesn’t matter what it tastes like because you’re not hungry after all those chips.

10) Make note to buy the darn things in the frozen food section next time.

Enjoy,
Sisma



Forget empanadas - Sarafina will take a hotdog any day!

My Fabulous Phone

I have a cell phone. It’s a flip phone and when I open it up lights come on. I look smart walking down the street holding it to my ear.

It took me only a few hours to realize that I had bought a pre-paid cell phone with no minutes. Apparently they sell the phone at one store and the minutes at another. I found the second store and bought $5,000 pesos worth which could last me one day to three months, who knows.

To make a call from one land line to another you simply dial the number. To dial a land line from a cell phone you need a 02 first except sometimes when you need the country code of 56 and then a 2 with no 0. To dial a cell phone from a land line you have to dial 8 or 9 first depending on the cell phone and phase of the moon. A mobile to mobile call requires a 08 or 09 depending on your phone, the cell phone you are dialing, and if you can carry a tune.

To check and see how many minutes you have left, dial 301. They’ll answer in Spanish and you’ll still have no idea. “Call waiting” means I can’t find my phone in my purse so you’ll just have to wait. I have no idea how to access voice mail.

If you ate empanadas for dinner last night, your phone may not work in the morning. If you had tomatoes, then you can only talk while sitting down. If the backlight on your phone is blue, then you can use it in your apartment, otherwise, it only works on the metro and in coffee shops.

I’d give you my new phone number, but I’m really not sure what it is. Also, I think I’m out of minutes. But I look fabulous walking down the street.

Llamame,
Sisma

Banana Chips

I love banana chips. They sell wonderful dried bananas at the ferias libres (Farmer’s Markets - see picture). I know they have them in the U.S., but I’ve fallen in love with them here and eat them by the bagful.

Most of the things we have experienced here are the same as at home: a glass still breaks when Sarafina drops it; cheap windex and plastic wrap don’t work; and food tastes best while standing over the sink. The novelty of things like the toilet swirling backwards and winter in August have worn off.

I could report that nothing big happened this week, but it is really a matter of perspective: We successfully made cookies (for our new friends from Alaska) demonstrating our supremacy over our oven; I used my Spanish/English dictionary to translate the subtitles on The Sopranos to see if they were accurate and in the process learned colorful new vocabulary; and I determined that Sarafina’s scar medicine isn’t working on my wrinkles, but it was worth a try.

I also had new experiences: I went to a charity wine tasting event at the U.S. Ambassadors house; I had a wonderful run up Cerro San Cristobal; and I ironed a shirt. All but the last I hope to do again. Today, the world is my oyster, and whatever happens, I will be content and thankful that I don’t have to dry my own bananas.

Sisma