Sharing

Margarita’s friend sent us this picture this week and I thought it was just too dang funny not to share. Apparently, his breakfast looked remarkably like South America, and he thought it would be something we would want to see. He was right.


One of the greatest joys of life is sharing things with friends. We’ve had a wonderful time sharing Chile with the Brouwers this week. We shared our clothes with them when their luggage didn’t arrive. We shared our metro pass to get us to the wineries, and cab rides home from the artisan markets. And with arms twisted, we shared our Pisco. We shared sips of interesting concoctions from Bar Yellow and the Advil after too much champagne at the Ritz.

We also shared a van ride to Argentina to see Aconcagua (the tallest mountain the Americas). Yea, that’s it in the background, covered in clouds. You just have to open your minds eye and “see” something that maybe you really can’t. Just like the eggs.

And Ciervo. He’s not here anymore either. If you don’t see Jane, it’s because she’s staying a few extra days to keep me company while Ciervo is in Panama and to share a few more laughs. Yes, we are sharing a bed. Maybe you should close your mind to that idea.

And so I share another week with you, and again extend the invitation to anyone and everyone to come for a visit. We’d love to share this all with you.

Sisma

Fumando

It’s been hard getting used to all the smokers here. While one daughter detests the smell of cigarette smoke, the other has asked numerous times when she gets to try it. I’ll let you guess which chiquitita (little sweetheart) is which.

Chile is just a smokin’ country. We traveled about 10 hours south of Santiago last week to the 10th region, known as the Lake District, to the small town of Villarica outside of the popular tourist town of Pucon. Towering over the area is Volcan Villarica, an active volcano that smokes during the day and glows red at night. In the morning, the fog over the lake looks like smoke rolling in from Argentina, only to be blown away by mid-morning.

We then ventured further south on Ruta 5, braving the smoky exhaust from the semi-trucks and the “that-can’t-possibly-be-legal-to-drive” local fruit and veggie trucks. Highway driving is quite safe, but challenging by the frequent tractors and horse-drawn buggy’s traveling with the 120 km/hr traffic.

We arrived in Valdivia, a major southern port town with a strong German influence famous because it is the site of the largest earthquake ever recorded in the world (9.0 on the Richter) in 1960. It destroyed most of the town, but they were quick to rebuild the most important buildings: the brewery and chocolate factory.

We’re still having a smokin’ good time. Keith quite literally as he plans to break the no fumando rule and imbibe with his friend this evening on their recently purchased Cuban cigars. I hope he enjoys it, because he may be smokin’ mad when he finds out I’m gonna make him sleep outside because of it.

Sisma

Cachai?

Last weekend we went to Termas El Corazon in the town of Los Andes, or, I suppose “Hot Springs of the Heart”. The termas are pools touted for their medicinal and healing properties, although I went in feeling fine and came out with knee pain. I don’t get it.

Now, I may not be the brightest tool in the shed, but I just don’t get why you have to wear a swim cap all the time at all the pools around here, even short-haired people and those with comb-overs (OK, maybe those heads should be out of sight). I mean, come on, there’s nothing like donning a metallic-blue skull cap to make the bathing outfit complete. Cachai?

"Cachai?" passes the lips of Chileans about 100 times a day and means “understand?” or “get it?” to which we typically reply in our best Chilean accent “no”. No, I don’t get why I received a free backpack when I bought laundry detergent this week, but I’ll take it. No, I don’t understand why every car alarm sounds the same so I have to check every five minutes when one goes off to see if it is mine or not. And no, I don’t get the pink camouflage fashion trend.

While Termas El Corazon may sound enchanting, it was quite mediocre and heart-stoppingly expensive, seeing as the springs themselves are naturally occurring. If I’m going to be dropping that kind of cash, I would rather my knees be sore from getting on and off the chairlift and bar stools. Cachai?

Sisma

Home

When we picked Ciervo up at the airport this week he said “It’s good to be home”. At the time, it sounded rather innocuous, but upon further reflection it seems revealing that he should travel from Colorado to Santiago to arrive “home”.

It’s been six months, and ½ of our time here has flown by. It seems like only yesterday when we struggled to meet our simplest needs, got lost, and used the Google translator to decipher the travel brochures. Oh yea, that did happen yesterday.

It’s fun to go somewhere new for a while and “reinvent” myself. For instance, I am no longer (who I was), but am instead Sisma: Goddess of Food and All Things Fabulous. I am super-together woman, fighting social norms wielding only my Platos y Copas (think Cooking Light) magazines with my angelic daughters in tow. I cook (OK, I burn), I clean (at least I thought about it once), and I wear skirts. I brush my hair now every morning and not a single neighbor has seen me in my ropa interior (underwear). I wear earrings. I have developed the power to offend people I don’t know and who don’t speak my language. My super hero name is “Sarcasmo”. I have skillfully retained my most famous power of midnight snacking and then waking early for the sole purpose of running off the calories.

I hope you’ll recognize me in six months. I look forward to returning home to unsuspecting friends and family. It’s true: Home really is where the heart is. So for Ciervo, home right now is Santiago. But for our family, home is Colorado. Prepare yourselves, we’ll be there soon.

Sisma

Hernando de Aguirre 865

Home...for now.