Saturday afternoon...

Today Sylvain woke me up. In our entire relationship I have never slept later than him. Usually I'm up at least a couple hours in front of him. I like to wake up early and this way I have time to myself, and usually if we watch a movie at night, I will inevitably fall asleep (they're my movies, I know how they end) within 30 minutes of pressing play, and often he will have an hour or two to himself before he goes to bed. So this extra sleep my body needed could only mean one thing; I'm getting sick. I had a feeling this was coming.

Last night we went to Cafe Vinilo for a plate of tapas. Delicioso, octopus with bacon, onions and garlic on toast. Most tapas are literally a bite or two, but we had a whole bowl to share, spooning it atop our toasts bites, and we washed it down with white wine and pisco sour. I am fundamentally a new world white wine drinker and prefer sauvignon blanc to anything else or when appropriate I like a lager. Sylvain and I got in the habit of occasionally sharing a bottle of champagne or having a glass of southern comfort in New York, but you will not find me drinking Ale, or anything resembling a cocktail- far too sweet. I think I am going to have to switch to red wine here in Chile, they make some good ones, and they're much better than the white wines I've had here so far. Still a bottle of wine goes for about 3 bucks and we've already found a few we like. Cafe Vinilo was old world cute, and it's only about a block from our house, everyone there already seemed to know Sylvain and I imagine we will be by regularly. The clientele was mostly Chilean, but this is the kind of place that is so charming it inevitably is going to draw the tourist crowd as it is probably written up in the lonely planet and there was a table of three midwestern Americans just in front of us.

I've had a blackberry alert me to new emails for over a year now, and the quaintness of checking my email with nervous anticipation of whether my inbox will have anything new for me is another charm to life in Valpo. I used to reply to my emails walking down the street in New York, I love being able to enjoy a walk and take in my surroundings whether at a cafe or on the streets in Valpo without feeling like I ought to respond to someone's text or email more or less because the technology of my phone allows me to. My parent's live in a log cabin in Bear Creek, Wisconsin with about 42 other people sharing the same post code; this is what they call the simple life. Well they have theirs, and I have mine.

I got up to make coffee and tea but came back to bed to read some of my book. I'm reading a travel book about Provence, creatively entitled "A Year in Provence". It's written by a Brit, whom I'm coming to find don't write the best travel literature. Sorry my friends, but after reading "Travels in a Long Thin Country" about Chile and "It's not about the Tapas" about cycling through Spain, I'm finding the Brits, although commendable in their dedication and commitment to travel, write dull histories of their adventures, and far too often spend too much time talking about how many Chileans tell them they're pretty (the book jacket photo lends one to believe otherwise) or how much weight they've lost and what a skinny stick they are (subsequent research on google images tells me, you are an average sized woman). This is odd, because I've never found self-congratulation to be a British character trait; perhaps these two ladies who also complained of being over 30 and single just need some love and manly companionship, after all, who doesn't.

I've been hankering after a Cortado- it's half milk and half coffee- but magically separated (hence "cortado" meaning cut) with some foam on top - since Sylvain and I met after his class and I foolishly went for a cappuccino italiano only to find his cortado was what I really wanted. Cafes here serve coffee drinks with a juice glass of fizzy water and sometimes if you're lucky a juice glass with juice, and here that juice is often a delicious sip of kiwi. We spent the afternoon in El Desayuno a sweet cafe across from Cafe Vinilo and enjoyed a cortado. Sylvain had finance homework to do, and I wanted to read my book about Provence, all the while pestering Sylvain with French vocabulary and geography questions, and generally planning my retirement in the south of France. When my Ipod ran out of juice and he couldn't use the calculator to do his homework we decided to go down to Lider and get some milk and chicken; and I suggested after this errand it would be about time to take a nap; see above, I'm under the weather. At home Sylvain made tea for me and an elaborate plate of milk, toast and dulce de leche for himself and after posting this, I intend to take said snooze.

This photo is from Sylvain's boxing gym; he claims, although I find it hard to believe that the gym he went to in the Bronx was even more dodgy. He had a few practice rounds in the ring on Friday and is now nursing a swollen hand. We're calling it fat hand.

Nuts and Bolts

I spent from 9am to 2pm today designing new English Tutor fliers, tailoring them to my student target market. For all the work and frustration (mostly due to limited memory on my laptop and no zip drive) I better get some business. This was the one thing that always felt really stupid about designing on computers, they inevitably are a huge time suck, and often for presentations some aspect of the technology always crashes or isn't compatible. 

So I wanted to spend my blog today, not discussing what now feels like a wasted day, but some of the nuts and bolts of everyday life in Chile. While I was in Peru I discovered that toilet paper couldn't be flushed and instead it was deposited in your bathroom trash bin to be emptied by the... actually you empty it.... I think while I was in Peru I had a hard time remembering this transaction, so used to the plumbing in the northern hemisphere, but so far here, it hasn't been a problem.  I mentioned this to Sylvain before he left, assuming correctly that Chile might have the same system, and his reaction was; "gross". The toilet system is further complicated here by the fact that you have to turn the water on with a system similar to what we hook our garden hose up to, before you flush. 

To get hot water in the kitchen, or to take a shower you have to light the pilot light in the kitchen, adjust the temperature there, and then check in the bathroom whether it's in a comfortable range of neither a flesh searing, or ice cold downpour. 

As far as the sink goes, its built just under the pilot light box and its only about 10" square, I've never really loved doing dishes, but at my age, I've come to take responsibility for myself, and since I cook dinner, Sylvain is put to work doing the dishes, because I tried once, and soaked my feet and legs making a water fall while trying to rinse the cutting board.

Speaking of cooking, I made one of my favorite pastas last night, it's from my Cousin's Tina and Travis who live near Boston, and Tina made it for me one time when I was visiting, its a cream sauce with artichokes, chicken, basil, and lots of parmesan and garlic. I had sent Sylvain to school with a list of things to pick up but he came home first to get money and we went together because we both needed to get a coffee. I had gone to Lider early in the day, and I was pretty sure, cream just doesn't exist in Valpo. Sylvain held out hope and we checked the never ending yoghurt isle and the isles of unrefrigerated milk in a box upstairs. This lack of refrigeration was no surprise, although nonetheless appalling to us American's who are used to our milk chilled and stamped with an expiration date only a week or 10 days after purchase. In some countries I've traveled and lived in, both are options, but in Chile, its milk in a soy container or you'll have none at all. We did find what we thought might be cream, but in the packaging photo, the white fluffy peak with a strawberry on top told me we were probably going to get whipped cream, but we bought a little juice box size box anyway, and in the end had it on top of some banana bread Sylvain bought before I got here.

On our way down the hill to get a coffee we decided to check out that gym I had mentioned, we had a look inside and this was more circa 1998 than 1492. The 3 weight machines were similar to the ones I had in high school, although we had more like 13 at Appleton East, and there was a circle of bikes that couldn't have been more then 5-10 years old for spinning class. We also ran into a Lyonnais Sylvain knew from school, Vincent. He was doing some sit-ups or something and after Vincent we ran into 3 more French, one man who owns a French restaurant here Filou de Montpellier, where we were meant to go there my first night but it was closed. He gave me two greeting kisses while all the young French gave me just the one in the style of Chile. I was really having a hard time getting used to not going in for the second kiss, because for the most part I've been accustomed to kiss greetings from Europeans and kissing in their style on both cheeks, but then they switch it up on me, just cause we're in South America. I know most of you Patriotic American's are probably thinking everyone should just adopt the handshake- but in reality unless you whip out your hand sani and in all likelihood offend your new friend by calling into question his sanitation level- to greet new friends with a kiss is scientifically proven to be less germy. 

One last nourishing tidbit about Chile, you can get something here called a Completo which is essentially a hot dog in a bun, with sauerkraut, mayonnaise, guacamole, some tomatoes and ketchup and mustard. They look horrifically unhealthy, but I had a small bite of Sylvain's and I could see them becoming all the rage at a baseball game with a side of beer. And I added the photo here.

A Room With A View

Our view is amazing, and today with the sun shining through the curtains at 8am, it was especially beautiful. For those of you who have lived in or visited San Fran the terrain and the colorful pastel housing is very similar. I've mentioned the hike up to our apartment, so we get quite a vista.

Today Sylvain and I kissed good bye at the bottom of our hill, I was going left and he was going right. Apparently, in this direction, I would find a post office, I did and I also found the Chilean Cultural Center or something like that, I went in and dropped off my CV because apparently they give Clases de Ingles. The woman seemed happy and positive about my visit, so maybe I can get a few extra hours there? Before I left I asked Hay una officina de correos en esta calle? (is there a post office on this street) she told me she didn't think so, but walking one block further I found exactly what I was looking for with a dashing red Correos sign. Afterwards I was quite close to what I could see was a big square so I figured I'd carry on walking to see what I could see. Upon arrival, there was nothing much to see, but there was a little Cultural Arts center and I had a peek inside, some video art that was pretty typical, and some paintings from a guy who was trying to capture the essence of eating at the table, the reunion, the symbolic aspects etc. They were sort of rip offs of Marc Chagall with a slightly muted palate, but seeing some local art was nourishing in itself and later I would peruse the Galleria d'Arte Valporaiso, which was in a beautiful old space with amateur and undeveloped artwork- there was one good piece but set amongst the dregs, it felt more like an accident. But now, I was really close to the port so I stopped by to tick that box. On my way back I took a parallel street (this was the banking district so the views weren't exactly novel) but I ran into the YWCA which Sylvain and I had spotted when we were in the taxi the day I arrived, and I explained what it stood for; they had a sign for yoga, but upon further inquiry I was told, that was over, TERMINADO! So I walked a bit further and ran into the YMCA, there was an ingles sign, so I dropped another CV off just in case (these buildings YM/YWCA are a mix between the VFW and an abandoned bowling alley, the lady whose office I popped into had an army green filofax, an ancient typewriter, and the kind of paper files you had piled up in multiple stacks before the advent of computers. We had an interesting exchange because she spoke Spanish, while I answered in what has become complete intuition. However I think the ultimate message of the meeting was, oh you teach art, well maybe in a month we will have a class you can teach- the whole conversation I did a masterful job of replying; Great! Yes. Ok. No. Professora de ingles, and Gracias!

I was getting a bit tired for no good reason, but after seeing gym after stinky gross gym, I thought, I'm going to have a look at that Yoga place I found on Day 1 and if it's on par with the rest, I'm going to get my exercise by walking home and thats that. Luckily for me, it was a beautiful serene studio space, and I look forward to practicing there as soon as things settle down and life becomes regulated. At this point I figured I was so close to the university I would post a few more of my private English tutor fliers. I realized around yesterday that unless my fliers start looking a lot more like gig or rave fliers, no one is going to look at them, much less email me. I figured I'd post these, but go home and get out the ol' photoshop and see if I could put my expensive degree to some good work. I also stole a competitors flier (I have already come to terms with the fact that this was going to do me no good in the karma dept) but actually it wasn't that I didn't want the competition, it was that Francisco had a better flier than me and I wanted to borrow his class and services offerings.

Time to put in a couple of hours of Rosetta Stone Latin American Spanish, sans Sylvain listening as I butcher simple sentences I'm asked to repeat into an old school McDonald's drive in microphone headset. Learning a language has never been as glamorous as this...

This morning I stopped to take this photo with Sylvain, he wants me to do some art on the walls in our white room (Sarah or landlord has given her ok- although I'm not sure I want to) but I like the black and white drawing in this piece; you can't see the details in the photo, but it has a sort of mix of comic drawing and street art scale.

End of day 2

We left, Valentin, Sylvain and I, the apartment at 3:30, they were going to box, in what is the most primitive 1960's boxing gym in the world, I am sure. I checked out the gym next door for myself, it was a carbon copy without the boxing ring and the Jean Claude Van Damm posters; but later on, on my way home I found a gym only a few blocks from our house that was at least semi-modern. So I will have a peek tomorrow.

After dropping Sylvain off at the gym I went to Paris, a sort of department store, here I bought probably the most expensive pillow I've ever owned, but frankly I'm ok with spending $49 on a goose down pillow, I will bring it home with me, and sleeping without neck pain for the next 3.5 months is more important to me. Besides the only other expense I have here is food. What I found interesting was the other pillows available, mostly the type I described, regulation size airplane pillows, but the other goose down options were thin 1/4 size (as in flat) pillows, at first I planned on purchasing two of them, but in the end I thought, nah.

I also bought a new bath mat and then headed to the adjacent JUMBO grocery and everything else store. Sylvain wanted me to get a new rug, but instead I got a small waste basket and bought some food. Jumbo had better options than SUPER LINDER, but still isle after isle of olive oil and pasta. Chile's products by and large come in plastic pouch type packaging, the type of stuff that is highly compactable and in the states you find it when you're purchasing refill stuff. So the mayonnaise and ketchup is in a bag with a spout instead of a bottle. I bought stuff to make homemade pizza's a la John and Annie Campbell, thanks for the recipe guys, they were even better in Valporaiso, and fish tacos with a chicken substitute because I didn't recognize the fish. Still that all ended up costing me $40 and with a boyfriend who eats for three there aren't a lot of leftovers at the end of the day. It takes about 30 minutes to walk home and I still had to get an extra key made and post a couple English tutor flyers at Sylvain's University. In the end I only posted one, because I noticed all the other flyers had highlighter all over and I thought mine might get more traffic with some bright colors. Walking home with 7 or 8 weighty, cumbersome bags was a real workout. Screw the gym, I should just shop everyday. We live up atop a trying hill which is quite a hike, I am no longer sure regular workouts will be necessary.

I finally arrived home and got into bed to read some emails with my new pillow to support me. Sylvain came home an hour later and he did dishes while I made dinner and we finished our bottle of wine from the night before. I'm feeling a bit guilty, so far I've had to ask my mom to send me my glasses, which, actually I really need, I have a definitive limit on how long I can wear my contacts everyday, and it does not extend to a full day. Tonight while making dinner I was horrified to find that not one kitchen knife could break the skin of an onion, much less a sausage; I nearly had to resort to using a scissors, or even worse my own teeth. Those sexy high heel boots I brought, useless, I asked mom to send me an extra pair of sneakers, since, that is about the only useful shoe in Valpo, and after today being chili in Chile I figured I better ask for another long sleeve shirt or two. However, anyone whose ever lived with me, which is in all likelihood everyone thats reading this blog, knows my mom is an amazing woman, who no matter where I have lived, and no matter how much she has vetoed that living arrangement, she has sent me her love, through the air, via all the things I have forgotten at home and quite often her homemade jam.

Tomorrow I will continue to work on Rosetta Stone (2 lessons down and many many more to go), hit the post office, the potential gym #2 and maybe try to find Plaza Victoria where the sales lady at Paris, kindly told me I might find an appropriate rug. Plus I've got to get out my colored pencils and highlight my English tutor posters, and then post them all over the city! Tonight we're going to watch my Netflix video, The Flight of the Concords and with my new pillow, I know at least I, will sleep like a baby.

This photo is right at the corner of our street Calle Galos, hiking up, tired and sweaty no matter how cool the air is, I can see from below, that's where I will finally get to turn the corner and be home. The street art here is amazing, vibrant, colorful and as far as art in Valpo art scene goes, the talent all lies here. I know people often find graffiti an aspect of urban living they link to crime and vandalism, but for me, at least in Valpo it makes climbing hills an artistic experience as important as any architecture tour or museum visit.

Good morning, stay in bed

Waking up today, was cold, one of those days, you feel like staying in bed might be your best option. Instead I'm on the couch hoping my hair dries quickly and I warm up some. 

Getting straight to business I'm starting the Rosetta Stone Spanish (Latin America) program. Already I am quite capable of ordering food and basic spanish pleasantries. I could be a tourist without any problem; but one of the reasons I came to Chile is to learn Spanish, and I intend to take this challenge seriously. 

Last night Sylvain took me to Pastis a french restaurant where we had the prix fixe and a glass of pastis; for all but the first ten minutes of dinner we had the restaurant to ourselves, it was the kind of place you'd bring your parents to when they visit. Pastis is an aperitif from Marseilles, you get about a shot and a half in a tall glass and then add as much water as you like so its not too strong; the flavor is anise and it's quite nice. Sylvain's university is in Marseilles and there he said he takes its with mint but you can also get it with grenadine syrup; we took ours plain. We had a salade with liver and being adventurous I did eat some of the liver, but when the salade was digesting comfortably in my stomach, Sylvain helped himself to the rest of my liver, which sorry, but reminded me of what comes in a can and you feed it to dogs. For our mains, Sylvain had what was essentially an elaborate Chicken pot pie and I had Pez del dia; fish of the day. For dessert profiteroles, which being full and not liking either whip cream or chocolate sauce, I passed on it after a obligatory bite and we headed home with a bottle of Chile's finest inexpensive Merlot.

Today I have lofty plans to buy a comfortable pillow, one that isn't modeled after the variety they pass out on international flights, get a key made for myself, buy cereal, and check out the gym next to Sylvain's boxing gym. Tonight we will dine with Valentino the French, and Sarah the Chilean roommates. 

It all starts here.

It took forever to get through the VISA line ($132 yikes! welcome to Chile amigo) but by the time I was through with that queue the customs line had dwindled. All along I was patient because I knew that I would get my reward when I would be greeted by Sylvain who had to wake up really early and catch a bus to meet my plane. So I get through customs around 9am or so, and instead of Sylvain, I meet a dozen taxi drivers who tell me about my beautiful eyes and promise to take me wherever I want to go. Cono! I am not happy, I know exactly why Sylvain is late, he missed his bus. Sylvain is lovely in many ways, but waking up early is not his specialty... But 10 minutes later he is there, and we are on our way!

Nothing in our bus ride from Santiago to Valparaiso is especially worth noting, the countryside reminds me of Spain but not as deserty. Once we hit Valparaiso we get a taxi to our house and I start to see the similarities to Lima and my time in Peru. The Spanish architecture is there, but it has not been kept up. There are parts that remind me of Istanbul and lots of parts that remind me of Lima. One thing that always strikes me in non-European countries is how badly these cities are in need of good graphic designers. The city's signage and advertising is awful; anyone whose traveled in a foreign tourist area has seen it before, frankly if you've been to a chinese take-away you know what I'm talking about, but instead of it being restricted to tacky chinese food photos, every sign for every shop makes you question why you would shop there.

Arriving at our apartment was a dream. I could not imagine a more suitable place for me. You walk in and there is a long hall up a staircase, one of the walls is lined with adverts from magazines, something I did when I was in high school, pulling out fashion and artsy ads that caught my eyes and taping them to the wall floor to ceiling in a collage. There is also a mannequin and a bench and a large art photo at the stairs summit. The kitchen is perfect with dark red dishes similar to what I have in nyc and I know its going to be just like my apartment in London. Our room is fantastic, Frida Kahlo art posters and calendars a clothes rack bar- something I've looked for in NYC but have never found, some art photographs and sculptures and two big windows with bright blue curtains. The room is huge, we have a huge bed and a couch, dresser and desk. I know I'm going to be happy here, this is exactly what I have been looking for in nyc, exactly what I've wanted since the Whitehorse and Goldsmiths.

The first thing I love to do in any place I visit, is check out the grocery store. I wasted no time, and after I dropped Sylvain off at his class (he has a test tonight) I went back to see what would be for dinner. It was very similar to a Sainsbury's in how it looked, but the food options were strange. Not in strange foods, but they had whole isles of rice, another of pasta, one of olive oil, and one of yoghurt. Since the products all looked the same- not a huge difference in quality so to speak, I was surprised that they used that space for the same items, instead of offering more variety of other foods. I can't say I expected much food wise in Chile, but I was holding out some hope I would be able to find a few more options than were available. However near Sylvain's school there is a massive produce market and I imagine I will rely heavily on this since I don't eat pasta or rice to any great extent. Mostly I was hoping for the availability of higher quality products, and maybe a little corner of international food options, but still this is a great opportunity to be creative.

On my way home from Sylvain's school I ran into a Hatha Yoga studio and grabbed a schedule, if the classes are good I will go often. Jogging in the streets is largely out of the question, they're similar to Cuszco, hilly, bad sidewalks, and have no organization, but next to Sylvain's boxing gym he tells me there is a gym that might be appropriate for me.

Right now I have to run, I'm meeting him at Cafe Poetics or something like that, and then we will head to dinner. Day 1 in Chile and it's already the best decision I've made in a long time. Whatever happens here, or wherever I end up next, I know that this was the right thing to do. This is who I am.

p.s. I went on my first ascensor ride tonight.

airplane post

I filled my water bottle up in both Indiana and Chicago, and I find the water is not palatable. New York has the best water in the world.

The aero mexico flight had all male air hosts... or whatever they're called.

I just got caught with two pairs of scissors in my carry-on here in Mexico, but the in Chicago they didn't notice. See previous post for security conversation and ask yourself how wonderfully safe our airports are. And I should add, that I have traveled around America with exacto knives in my carry-on as well, but the last time I left Appleton Wi the woman wouldn't let me take a jar of my mom's homemade jam. 

For those of you whom don't subscribe to the The Sun, start now, this months interview was really interesting - about biomimicry- and there is also a great story about papas in this issue.

I am sitting at a Mexican Chili's having a cerveza and talking to mi novio online. I've got less than 12 hours to Santiago...

In the photo, our entrance hall, where is Carol, she needs to visit.