Quality Control

I’m on my third hair dryer in 6 months. We bought a box of 4 card holders to make it easier for the girls to hold playing cards in their little hands. There were 3 in the box. The queso (cheese) I just bought is moldy and the cheap clock does not keep time. The princess movie we purchased from a street vendor ended up being a “Rocky Trilogy”. Worst of all, my diet coke was flat.

“Quality Control” must not directly translate. Standards here are not what we are used to and “buyer-beware” prevails. You can’t cut corners with cheap scissors – we know because we tried. So our standards, expectations, and attitudes have changed. For instance, thank heavens that computer microphone broke so we have a play-karaoke mic for hours of mind-numbing High School Musical songs.

There is one thing we can always count on – the Chilean people. I don’t think I’ve mentioned before just how nice they really are. Juan Carlos and Alfredo will routinely help me with my groceries, and Mario is always there to fix the lavadora (washing machine) when I break it. Vendadores and cajas (vendors and cashiers) always offer a genuine smile. Keith had a Chilean friend haul his bike 10 hours back from Pucon, and the girls just had a 7 hour playdate – now there are quality friends.

Surprises are everywhere and it is exciting to not know exactly what you might get. When we went to see La Telaraña del Charlotte (Charlotte’s Web), the names had been changed – Wilbur was Wilfredo, Templeton was Emelio, and Ike the horse was Ignacio. The tickets were cheap, the theater air-conditioned (a rarity), and the popcorn was dulce (sweet). Again, the diet coke was flat. But Charlotte was still her amazing spider self, even writing bilingual.

Each day comes with its own surprises, some good and some disappointing. But whatever life throws at us we will always expect the best. Not the least of which is that refreshing “pffizzzzzz” when I unscrew my next soda.

Sisma
Our quality dad that we miss so much!

Papa'

Yesterday Ciervo boarded a bus for Pucon to participate in his first ½ Ironman triathlon. From there he’ll travel to the states for a week (D.C. and CO) so if you see him, be sure to squeeze his muscles and swoon “ooooooo…”, stand in awe as he shows you his medal, and then tell him to get his skinny Chilean butt back here.

It been great having Ciervo around and I shouldn’t complain that he’ll be gone for the next 10 days. After all, it’s not like the girls are grounded for peeling the paint off their bedroom wall. It would be a bummer if my one-and-only babysitter just got a real job and was unable to help out next week. And it’s not like it’s too hot to go outside and our 800sf seems to be shrinking.

No, I’ll be fine. I’ll go through the typical 7 stages of abandonment: 1) denial that he is actually gone, 2) anger that he left without insuring there was adequate chocolate in the house, 3) acceptance that he is out making money so that the girls and I can live without want, 4) anger again that the remote control on the TV does not work (which isn’t his fault but ticks me off anyway), 5) joy because I realize that I miss him which must mean he is, in fact, good for something, 6) melancholy because I'm lonely and the book I’m reading is horribly depressing, and 7) elation because I’ve found the checkbook and it still registers a positive number.

Don’t worry about us. If we don’t answer when you call, we’ll be out at the feria artisiana (artisan fair), Ciclo de Danza & Música Internacional (Dance and music festival), or the fashion show at Parque Arauco (the mall). We plan on spending time at la picina (the pool), with friends, and practicing our new “wheelies”. If we get desperate there is always Mampoto (think Chuck E. Cheese) or el cine. We might spend most of what he is making on his trip, which serves him right for leaving in the first place.

Papa will return donning the pride of his first ½ Ironman. He’s sure to be ½ beat from the race and business trip back-to-back, and may be ½ out of his mind with all the work that will result of it. But we wish him all the luck in the world, are 100% proud of him, and will be totally happy to have him “home”.

Sisma

Defining Success

I used to start my day making a laundry list of oh-so-important-things that I needed to complete in order to have a “successful” day. Sometimes, those things were more than just items on a list, they gave my life meaning. My crowded schedule meant I was important and mattered. But a smarter person than me once said, “Hurry is not of the devil, it is the devil”.

When we first got to Chile, we incorporated the “one-thing-a-day” plan because even the simplest tasks were challenging. Taking the pressure off allowed me some breathing room. But now I really resent having to do one whole thing a day. I mean, I just did something yesterday, and I deserve a day off.

Perhaps that is why we enjoyed La Serena so much. It is a coastal town about 5 hours north of Santiago that we visited with my parents. The name means “Serenity” and the inhabitants are mocked for being so laid-back as to be barely alive. We fit right in.

The beaches were long, white, and uncrowded. We spent the days lounging and talking about what and when we were going to eat again. Luckily, the restaurants were uncrowded. My mind, free of laundry, lists, and schedules, was also uncrowded. In fact, I could scarce manage a thought (which is why my blog skipped a week).

I want to stress that slowing down does not mean that we are bored in any way. We still have so much to do, see, eat, buy, smell, and laugh and complain about. Yesterday, the girls had vacation bible school, I found a new organic food store, and we learned that although frambuesa (raspberry) juice stains pajamas, chocolate caliente (hot chocolate) does not. We also explored a new park, met a new friend, and since I didn’t feel like going to the store, tried a new restaurant. This weekend, Ciervo will return from Panama, Margarita will sing in church, Sarafina will get her wish of a midnight swim, and I plan to choke down this tofu that, during a momentary lapse of reason, seemed like a good purchase.

Today I will make ice. It will be exhausting, but I should have it done by evening and then I’ll earn my checkmark for the day. Sometimes, success can be so humbling…

Ignorance is Bliss

Every mom wants their child to aim high when it comes to what they want out of life. So when Sarafina told me that when she grows up she wants to be the “perfume girl” in a department store, I felt like such a failure.

It’s easy to feel like a failure in this life, so I see no need to set New Years resolutions (a sure opportunity for failure) just to confirm that fact. Signs all around me tell me that I don’t measure up, that I’m not good enough, smart enough, rich enough or pretty enough. Maybe I should make a resolution to stop reading those signs.

One expectation that I’ve fallen short on is learning this silly language. We’ve been here for almost 6 months, and I was sure I’d be “popping” into conversations by now. But here I am, still chasing the words.

But maybe it’s like the boys on the playground thing: What would they do with the girls if they caught them? Who would they chase then? In a similar way, what fun would this experience be if I spoke the language? I would know where I am, where I’m going and what I am eating all the time – what fun is that?

There are some things that just don’t need explaining anyway. For instance, last week my parents and I took the Tren del Vino (wine train) through the Colchagua wine country. Wine. Train. What more needs to be said? (except that Viognier makes the best breakfast wine). The girls now sleep in until almost 9:30am every morning (insert sound of crickets chirping). And Sarafina’s career change is because perfume smells better than being a doctor in space. Now who can argue with that?

I’m all for keeping the language bar set low. I can’t be lured into a banal conversation with the guy next to me on the metro (subway) or the cola (checkout line) at the market. I’m not a failure just because I don’t understand the foul language other drivers shout at me. I may not be smart, pretty, rich, or bi-lingual, but thanks to my daughter I will always smell nice, and that’s good enough for me.

Sisma