Vacation!

I'm going on vacation with my husband to my husband's family's beach house...without my husband's family...can't wait!

See you all in a week :)

Riding the Metro While Black

I whine and complain all the time about being blond in Chile. I hate the fact that when I walk down the street I can't look any man in the eye, much less smile, without him taking it as an open invitation to harass me. I don't like lewd comments (ok, sometimes they're funny, but on the sole principle of the issue, I hate them). I still have not gotten used to being stared at constantly. And Chileans have serious staring issues. You know how in the US if you catch someone staring he or she will usually look away all embarrassed? Not in this country! I've gotten myself involved in some full fledged staring contests because I'll notice a man looking at me, I'll meet his gaze thinking that will shame him into looking away, and two seconds later I'll look back up and he'll still be staring brazenly. At that point I am forced to say something along the lines of, "Que chucha estas mirando?!?" (What the heck are you looking at?!?). Chileans hate a public scandal so that usually makes the culprit turn red and start pretending to be really, REALLY interested in staring at the ads above the doors of the metro.

I don't understand why Chileans are still so fascinated by blonds anyways. I know being blond with blue eyes is like their beauty standard and all that, but being thin with fake boobs is the beauty standard in the US and that doesn't mean that when I'm back home I openly gawk at every toothpick sized girl with fake tata's that walks by. And I know back in the day blonds in Chile didn't used to be so common place, but in this day and age their are tourists from all over the place running around Santiago. Blonds, blonds, blonds everywhere! Yet, they still continue to stare at the fair haired girls like we're freaks of nature.

But, I have to admit that being blond is way better than being black.

I sometimes forget how racist Chileans can be. I forget because this country is so damn homogeneous.

See exhibit A (of homogeneity, not racism):

Notice how almost all the people are dark haired. The population is mostly short, with black/very brown hair and eyes, and medium color skin tones (they're obviously not white as a baby's butt like I am, but in general I don't think they're as dark skinned as people typically think of when Latino comes to mind).

There are not a ton of different races living in Chile, this country definitely isn't what you would call a "melting pot." Those foreigners that do live here generally stay on the outskirts of the society. Anyone with slanty eyes is a "Chino," or Chinese, and anyone extremely indigenous looking is an "Indio," Indian (yeah, I probably didn't need to translate those words for you did I?) without distinction as to where they're actually from.

I have heard so many Chileans proudly tell me that racism doesn't exist in Chile. I never point blank contradict them by saying, "Umm, yes it does." All I have to do is just steer the conversation towards Peruvians and Bolivians and it usually doesn't talk long until the racism rears it's ugly head. The prejudices that some Chileans have towards those that come from Peru and Bolivia are much like the prejudices that some people in the US have against Mexicans or other Latino groups.

Anyways, my point being is that racism in Chile is still a hidden agenda because most Chileans don't even think there's a problem. But then again, most Chileans still haven't even recognized how discriminatory their own country is to themselves! To get a job here you still have to attach a picture to your resume. And TONS of jobs will specifically request somebody with "buena presencia," or good presence...aka you need to be attractive, aka you can't look at all indigenous or they won't hire you. Well, that's tough since I'm sure like 99% of the population has indigenous blood.

Getting back to the matter at hand, racism does exist in Chile. When I was riding the metro yesterday a black man got on same car as me. There are far fewer blacks in Chile than blonds...judging by people's reactions you would've thought this guy had like 7 arms or something nutty like that. But no, alas, he was not a human octopus, he was just black. When he hopped on the metro next to me, two people in the same general vicinity looked at him and then pointedly moved away. Sure, they might have moved away because that made their spot too crowded. But the whole metro was crowded. It was one of those things where I just knew by the look on their faces that they moved away because he was black. Just like when you can hear people whispering and you walk up and they stop. Even though you didn't hear any exact words that they said, sometimes you just know they were talking about you.

As soon as the black man got on the metro nobody even paid any attention to my yellow head. They were too busy ogling this guy as if he had come from another planet. I smiled at him and he smiled back (aside from the fact that he was black, that's how I know he was foreign too. Chilean people think that you're going to rob them if you smile at them). I felt uncomfortable for him as people continued to stare and whisper.

And then I realized being blond isn't all that bad.

Study Abroad Romance

Since people constantly ask me about how my husband and I met, I thought I'd clear things up for once and for all on this blog. No, he was not a mail order bride. We were actually introduced by mutual friends while I was in my first semester (of 3) of study abroad in Chile. With no further ado, I present to you, My Study Abroad Romance:

When I arrived in Chile I was not pleasantly surprised at all by the quantity of hot men. There were none. Maybe it was the fact that I'm taller than a lot of them. Maybe it was the fact that they're all waaaaaaay too hairy for my taste...I don't mean furry chests or back hair sprouting out of their shirts, I mean they all had long hair on their heads and lots had facial hair. I'm just not into the straggly, wannabe rock star look.

When I first laid eyes on S., he was like a breath of fresh air. His head is shaved, so he's like a sexy, small version of VinDiesel :)

The first time I saw him was at a birthday party. His 24th birthday party to be precise. I had been invited to accompany a girl on my program who had been invited to the party by S.'s best friend. When she called me and practically shouted, "I'm going to a Chilean's birthday party and him and his friend are actually hot!" I was into my hooker boots and out the door so fast I didn't even have time to hang up the phone.

I arrived at the fiesta and my friend introduced S. as the birthday boy. He seemed a little shy and just thanked me for coming. Throughout the rest of the night I noticed him staring me down and I tried to smile and look inviting so he would come and chat me up, but it didn't work. He later told me that he was completely intimidated by me. Well, the whole night went by and nothing other than eye flirting was going on. I got bored and put on my coat to leave, and he ran up to me. He asked for my phone number. I didn't understand him. He tried again and I still didn't get it. I just laughed, I was tipsy and I couldn't understand the crazy Chilean kid at all. Finally in English he asked, "How will I find you again?" and pointed to his phone. BINGO! I understood. I gave him my number, he hugged me goodbye and promised to call the next day.

TWO WEEKS PASSED and I didn't hear from him. I was pissed and a little shocked, to be honest with you. I usually have really good radar and can tell if a guy is into me or not. S. definitely seemed to be in to me but he hadn't called. I gave up hope of ever seeing the only hot guy in Chile again.

Then one day I was walking at my Chilean university when I heard a voice calling my name with an accent. I thought that was really strange since at that point I had zero Chilean friends, so I figured the mystery voice wasn't talking to me. But, lo and behold, the hot bald Chilean ran up to me. The first thing he said was, "Please tell me now if you gave me the wrong number on purpose and I will just leave you alone." Ooops, my bad. Like a true, dumb gringa, I had gotten my own phone number all mixed up. But, people, cut me some slack...seis and siete sound kind of alike. We corrected my error and the rest is history. S. and I were pretty much inseparable from then on.

I began staying over at his house constantly (I'd say I moved in, but I still had to go back to my own apartment ever couple of weeks to pick up more clothes and stuff). We had only been together for about a month when I had to make the decision to stay another semester in Chile or return to my university in the US. I had been considering staying anyways, because my Spanish hadn't improved as much as I thought it would (obviously... seis and siete, yeah, dUH) but the fact that I was madly in love weighed in on my decision pretty heavily.

I moved in permanently with S. and his family that second semester. It was about that time that I began to ponder the perplexities of Chilean life.

For instance, why don't Chileans believe in screens? The pollution in Santiago has not yet killed all living things, including bugs and rodents so it just doesn't make sense NOT to use them. Why were my 24 year old boyfriend and his 27 year old sister still receiving monthly allowances? For that matter, why were grown adults living with their parents and not hating every second of it?!? Why are the people of this country so obsessed with blonds, palta (avocado) and terrible, cheesy 80's rock music?

When I lived with my first Chilean host family any strange custom in their house, I just attributed to them being weirdos. When I moved in with S. and his family, it became clear to me that all Chileans are weirdos.

And by that, I only mean that they do a lot of things that seem strange to somebody who is not part of their culture. No offense meant to any Chileans who might happen to be reading this. I know they think gringos are weird too :)

So I moved in with S., stayed in Chile for three semesters, he came back with me to the US for three months (which was as long as his visa would allow), while I finished school he went back to Chile and found a job and when I finally came back to Chile, we got married.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Granola Hell

I just ate the world's hardest granola bar ever. It was like biting into a rock. And that's not just an analogy that I pulled out of my ass, I really have bitten into a rock before. It hurts. And so did eating this granola bar. I'm pretty sure the workout my jaw just got chewing burned off all the calories I may have consumed in said granola bar.

Anyways, that's not what I was going to blog about.

Like I've talked about before, I have a hard time falling asleep at night. As a result, I usually go to bed hours after my husband. I'm constantly in and out of bed, turning lights on, closing and opening doors and drawers...and the man never budges. I'd like to know how it is possible for a human being to sleep so deeply. Trying to climb over him to get into bed once I STEPPED ON HIS HEAD AND HE DID NOT WAKE UP. I thought I crushed his brain, I actually leaned in close to make sure he was still breathing. I shouted, "S! Are you OK?!?" and he respond, "mmmmmrhp," which is his happy sleeping moan that let's me know he's not even close to being conscious.

I have realized that I am so lucky to be married to him! I've knocked over chairs, and ran into doors all while trying my hardest to be "quiet," and not wake him up. But since it doesn't matter and nothing I do is going to rise him out of his slumber, I might as well take advantage of that. So now I turn on the overhead light, watch TV or listen to the radio, basically I just go about as if it were daytime and I were living alone.

He's like Sleeping Beauty, he only wakes up for one thing...


Although it does take a little more than a kiss ;)

New Blog

Hey peeps. I started a new blog for people who want to travel to Chile. This is still my personal blog, don't worry (nobody was worried, K, just shut your pie hole already).

Anyways, feel free to check it out:

www.lovetotravelchile.com

Sickety Sick Sick Sick

I have been so sick lately. Winter in Santiago just kills me. It's impossible to stay warm because central heating doesn't exist. And riding the metro...well you might as well just insert the flu virus intravenously because after touching the handles and doors and seats and breathing the same air as a thousand gazillion people all in one small space, you're definitely going to get sick. Oh yeah, and then walk outside and breathe in massive amounts of smog as an added bonus. That will make you feel just peachy!

Here are some photos I took at the park the day before I got sick...they're from last weekend but I just now got around to editing them.




I tried some fun new things in Photoshop, let me know if you like the weirdo colors.

Anyways, aside from being sick I haven't been sleeping well either. The problem is that I have a hard time falling asleep to begin with...which has been a struggle for me ever since I was little. My brain just won't turn off no matter what I do. I'll be laying in bed trying trying to stop thinking and I'll catch myself with clenched fists, a furrowed brow, every muscle in my body tense. I have to conscienciously go through and relax each muscle. And then by the time I'm done doing that, I've started thinking again and by the time I've gotten my mind more or less blank, my muscles are all hunched up again. When I finally manage to fall asleep I never get more than an hour or two of shut up before I have to get up to go to the bathroom...

AND HERE IS WHERE YOU STOP READING OR ELSE YOU WILL BE BOMBARDED WITH TOO MUCH INFORMATION. CARRY ON AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I had a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection) last year. I got it while I was living in Chile with no medical insurance (oh wait...nothing has changed, I still am uninsured in Chile, ANYWAYS). But, the good thing about this country is that pharmacists will give you like any medicine you want without a prescription if you'll describe your illness to them. So Seba took me to a pharmacy that's inside the supermarket closest to our house. The damn pharmacist woman wouldn't give me any medicine without a prescription...that had NEVER happened to me before. Anyways, after begging and pleading with her to no avail I just broke down in tears....and not just like silent, eyes welling up tears...I was sobbing like a little kid whose mommy just told her that she was not going to get a pony for her birthday. People were staring and I was making a huge scene and S. was getting angry with me because I wouldn't stop crying. But, if you have ever had a UTI I'm sure you understand. I have a really high pain tolerance and even this was too much for me. I couldn't handle it. Anyways, to get to the point, we just ended up buying massive amounts of cranberry juice and that cured me within hours of drinking it. Seriously, never bother going to the doctor for a UTI again, just drink the red stuff. When I got back to the States I did go to the doctor to make sure I was completely cured, and sure enough, I was. But the reason I'm writing this, is because ever since then I am like ultra tuned in to my pea sized bladder. Which makes me get up to go to the bathroom like 10 times a night. And after every time I go to the bathroom, I have to go through my whole tossing and turning and clenching and unclenching and trying to clear my mind thing again.

I feel like I never get a good night's sleep and I don't know how much longer I can handle this. I'm a woman who needs her sleep. Give me a good solid 10 hours or I'm as cranky as a Walmart cashier.

ARGH...it's so frustrating to never feel well rested. If anybody has any suggestions, please feel free to comment. Unless that comment says, K. stop talking about your bladder on your blog, then please do not feel free...I warned you.

ps. I just realized all the photos I post on here are cut off on the right side, so to see the full picture, click on it and it will take you to my flickr were you can see the whole thing if you so please.

Shameless Self Promotion- VOTE FOR ME!!!!

Anybody who reads this blog knows that I love photography! Well, I have the chance to be published (and win $$$) if enough people vote for me. I would be so thrilled to see one of my photos in print, and we could definitely use the extra cash.

I have a photograph in the travel photography contest: www.jpgmag.com/photos/221286
And an article in the 10 tips section.www.jpgmag.com/stories/1290

Please click on both those links and vote for me. You have to register but it just takes a minute and they never spam you...I've been registered with them for ages.

Also, if I win both contests, I will donate $50.00 of my prize money (total prize money for having won both would be $200) towards a worthy non-for profit organization here in Chile.

So if you want to help both Kyle and charity in Chile, please vote for me. I will be eternally grateful! Please feel free to link or post this anywhere you'd like...the more votes the better my chances of winning are!

THANK YOU!

Not So Bad

After a week and a half of horrible eating caused by PMS (or my total and complete lack of willpower...whatever. I prefer to blame PMS), the scale is headed in an upwards direction and I'm not too overjoyed about that. So I've started trying to control my eating, but we haven't been to the grocery store in 3 weeks so we have no fresh fruits or veggies. We have nothing but noodles and rice. The carbs are killing me! I eat a small plate of starchy deliciousness and then in an hour I'm starving again. We really need to get to the supermarket but there are several problems, 1. We're poor. 2. We're poor. and 3. We're really poor.

AWESOME!

At the end of this week after payday we'll be able to go grocery shopping but we still don't have a lot to spend, and inflation has just been killing me lately. When I first got to Chile I couldn't believe that fresh produce was so dirt cheap. Now in the past months the prices of vegetables and fruit has gone up over 100%, milk and bread have also been on the rise. I've heard talk that this is a sign of Chile's economy growing. Welcome to the developed world...where everything costs you and arm and a leg! But, I feel so bad for the people here who are truly poor. It's pretty easy for me to notice inflation in food prices because we are very consistent in what we buy...always the basics, lots of fruits, vegetables, bread, milk, cereal, rice etc. Never anything too out of the ordinary (except when my husband's cuico supermarket opened and I went CRAZY!). There was a time when we regularly spent about $50,000 pesos, or about $100 USD every two weeks on groceries. Now it's gone up, and I'm fairly positive we are still buying the same items. Now we spend about $60,000-65,000 pesos, or $120-130 USD each time. That's not a huge increase but when you consider the fact that minimum wage is about $240 USD, spending an extra $20-30 bucks would take a serious chunk out of your monthly earnings.

I complain a lot about our financial situation. We have debt and that sucks big time. It may take us longer than we'd like to be able to move to another country. I'd like a big expensive flash for my camera.

I want to smack myself for just saying those things.

I seriously need to shut my pie hole. Compared to most people in Chile, we are so much better off. Sure, we live in a room in a student residence that belongs to our parents. But, we have a roof over our heads. I might not be able to buy all my expensive imported foods from the US like peanut butter as much as I would like, but I never worry that we're going to go hungry. Sometimes I light candles to help heat our room to save on energy costs. But we'll never freeze because I can turn on the electric space heater whenever I want. We have electricity in our house.

Anyways, this entry turned into a total tangent and is not what I had intended to write about. Sometimes you just have to go with it. I guess the point that I'm trying to get to is that we're not "really poor," like I said in that first paragraph. We're rich, and I should be more appreciative.

Disco Queen

So, let's talk about my weekend and what I did not do. I thought I was going to end up working as a promotora...

Remember how I went to a casting call to try and get a job in promotions? That did not turn out exactly as planned. I arrived on time and looking cute as a button, if I do say so myself. I put in the extra effort on my hair. I normally have a curly fro. Trying to straighten it totally stresses me out:





(and if I look ridiculously skinny in these pictures, it's because I was. This was taken about two weeks before my wedding when I was at lifetime low of 129, I have since gained back about 7 or 8 pounds).

Anyways, so I straightened my hair, put on the most wonderful makeup in the world, my MAC products, which I only bust out on really special occasions. I wore jeans, high heels and a long, trendy white sweater. I set out feeling full of confidence, when I walked out the door of my house, my head was high and there was nothing in the world that could bring me down because I. Felt. HOT!

Walking through my neighborhood filled with mechanics I received more than my fair share of appreciative glances, whistles, hoots and hollers...all of which I pretended not to notice. If I look them in the eyes, they might propose marriage. I swear, that's actually happened numerous times. I felt good, I just knew that I was going to be chosen for the job.

The metro on the way to the agency's offices was totally full, hot and sweaty. The metro in Santiago is always full of guys who try to use the anonymity of the crowds to cop a feel. So I did what I always do, I made my way to a corner, smooshed my butt up against the wall and carried my big purse in front of me, so in case any men tried to "fall" and catch themselves by grabbing on to me and my assets, all they would get was a handful of a fake leather Target hobo bag. I exited the metro 45 minutes later at the other end of town and stopped to ask somebody how to get to the address given to me by the agency. I was told it was a short walk from where we were so I headed off clipping along at as fast of a pace as my high heeled strappy sandals would let me. 30 minutes and 4 blisters later I arrived to my destination. My feet were killing me. But, I plastered on my best fake smile and went in.

The lady who greeted me was wearing a ridiculous blue sequined shirt. The whole time she was talking to me I paid no attention to the words she was saying because her shirt was like a giant mesmerizing disco ball. I. Could. Not. Look. Away. She blah blah blah'ed and led me to a room full of 5 other prospective promotion girls.

Everybody looked extremely bored and all the girls were wearing extremely tall heels. I asked them why and they said because they had all lied about their heights on the application and were hoping the agency wouldn't notice. Dang it! I should have lied and worn taller heels too! There aren't many tall Chilean models, and these girls told me that even on the agency website where all the girls who are shown have stats that say they are 170 cm (5'5.5"), really only reach that height with heels on. Suddenly 5'4" without heels made me feel like a giant among men.

So we sat there and discussed our heights, and weights and hair and heels and any other boring, superficial topic you can possibly think of. And the clock ticked on. and on. and on. We sat in a room with no windows for over an hour and a half. It was dark and gloomy and my company was so terrible that I suddenly wondered if I had died and maybe God was punishing me for not giving money to the beggar with no legs who rides around a skateboard, that I always pass by when I go downtown.

Finally when we were closing in on a wait time of two hours one by one the models started trickling out the door. I had one foot in the open air on my way to freedom when Senora Disco Ball comes running after me screaming, "Stay! Stay! OH PLEASE STAY! The client has arriiiiiiiiiiived!" There was such a desperation in her voice that I felt like her job might be on the line if a client showed up and had no models to choose from, so I stayed. Nobody else did. Jeez, gringas are total pushovers, aren't we?

The client was a total bitch. She walked in haughtily, didn't apologize for being two hours late, and demanded a cup of coffee. Then she sat down and stated, "I'll be with you in a minute," and slowly finished her beverage, not caring that I had been waiting for her for FOREVER. When she finished, all she did was tell me to stand up, turn around and walk around the room. Then she asked very condescendingly (you know, speaking veeeeerrrryyyy, slooooooooowwwwlyyy and VERY LOUDLY in case I didn't understand) if I spoke Spanish. When I told her I did, she said, "Alright she's in," and left the room. Senora Disco Ball came back and told me that since I had passed the test I was required to go to a half day seminar on the bitch client's product on Friday in order to work the next two weekends for them. When I asked if I would be paid for the seminar, she practically snorted and told me, "Absolutely not."

I walked out the door pissed as hell, pardon my French. And on the 30 minute, now 6 blister walk, + 45 minute metro ride home I did some calculations. Including the 3 hours of time spent at the "casting call," plus the half day product seminar, and the 9 hours workdays, the total pay was going to come out to less than 50 cents an hour.

I sent an email when I got home and told Disco Ball I couldn't make it. She wrote back furious, and said, "This is a professional agency and when you make a commitment to us we expect you to keep that commitment. How am I supposed to find another model in such a short notice? This is the first and last time you do this to us, if it happens again you'll have to find yourself a new agency!" I haven't wrote back and probably won't but if I did it would go something like this.

Dear Disco Ball,

You kept me waiting for over 2 hours, then your client treated me like dirt, and you expected me to drop everything with less than 24 hours notice for a seminar you didn't tell me about and you want to talk to me about professionalism? Don't worry about this ever happening again, in fact I'm already looking to find myself a new agency. Why? Not because I'm scared of your disciplinary threats, but because I'm from a 1st world country and I don't work for an hourly rate that would be considered slave labor in most places.

Sincerely,
The gringa who is taller than all your models without hooker heels on

Ps. The 1970's called and they want their disco ball...oops, I mean shirt, back.

Want To Win $2500???

I do!

Over at Ashwin’s blog, you will find one crazy blog owner!! You can win $2500!! To enter just copy this text and paste it in your blog!! But hurry, this competition will not last long! So get posting!

No Llores

Here is a translation of the lyrics in case you don't speak Spanish. The title, No Llores, means Don't Cry, and it's by Gloria Estefan. I've been way too immersed in Spanish so if the English sounds wonky, it probably is. If you find a mistake, leave a comment and I'll fix it!

If you're going to surrender your soul
Do it free from fear
If one learns a lot from love
You can learn even more from mistakes

Ay! Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry
Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying
Stop suffering and let go of your fears
Ay! Don't cry

If one day, you don't love me anymore
Say it to my face without betrayals
All the happiness that we lived
Stays in our hearts

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, Ay!
Don't cry for me, my love
Don't cry anymore
Don't cry for me, don't cry

The day that I die
I don't want to be sent flowers
Whatever you give me, give it to me in life
There will be no reason for you to cry like that

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, Ay!
There's no reason for you to cry like that
Don't you worry, stop your crying
And listen to my song that tells you
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry for me, for me
If you don't enjoy life, you'll never be happy

Ay! Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry for me
It's just that life is too short to keep suffering like that
Ay! Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry anymore
Ay! Life is to be enjoyed, nothing more

Hey! My love, what I want is for you to tell me
You're not going to cry for me, ever...eh, eh.

I absolutely love this song and the lyrics. If my life had a soundtrack this would be the theme song. Even though it's more powerful song in Spanish, you can get a general idea from my translation. Basically, what I took from this is that you should appreciate the here and now and take advantage of every minute so that when you die, there's no reason for anyone to mourn you. The paragraph that I bolded really rang true for me. What's the use of flowers or pretty words at a funeral?

Whatever you're going to tell me, or give me, or feel for me, do it while I'm alive to enjoy it!

At my funeral, I hope people have a glass of champagne, make a toast to celebrate my life and dance to this song.

So this weekend when I got in a fight with my husband, instead of crying for hours until he apologized, I sucked it up and said those magic words, "I'm sorry," first. Who wants to waste a day angry, when you can be happy? Not me.

Instead of drinking beer at a party, I drank a bottle of good champagne...why wait until there's something specific to celebrate, what's wrong with celebrating just another day of living?

That expression, "live every day as if it were your last," is so overused. People always say that's how they want to live their lives, but how many actually do? It's not practical to live each day as if you were going to die tomorrow. You can't just decide to wake up one day and stop going to work...because if you do that, and you actually don't end up dying tomorrow, you're screwed! You'll probably end up in a little bit of a financial pickle. But you can say I love more often, pick the phone when your mom calls and actually listen to her, say yes when you're friends invite you out, even though you know you'll be so tired at work the next day, instead of sleeping in, get out and enjoy the day, you never know what you'll see!

Those are some of the things I'm going to try and change in my life. If you were to apply the same principles to your life, what would you change?

Purpose

I feel like I have a purpose to my life again. I think a huge part of my mental breakdown was that aside from being in debt, I'm not doing any of the things I thought I would be doing when I graduated from college...we are light years away from having enough money to move to Europe like we've planned, we live in a student residence owned by my husband's parents, and I am working as a celebrity gossip blogger. Now, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that job, as a matter of fact, I really enjoy it. It's just that I majored in Sports Management because that's what I love. I had always dreamed of being part of an Olympic or World Cup organizing committee, or working for an organization promoting women's participation in sports in Latin America. Then, towards the end of college, I discovered a passion for photography, and as opportunities in that field seemed to land at my feet, I felt like taking photos was something I could turn into a career.

I arrived here in Chile filled with hope, ready to start a career, in photography or in sports...

I soon discovered that the idea of family portraits or senior pictures is completely foreign to Chileans. In a third world country, the truth is there is just not a of disposable income in the majority of the population. In the US my photo prices were geared towards middle class families. Here, a middle class barely exists. Heck, my husband and I are what would be considered middle class and we are struggling to get by. I would never spend money on photos myself as long as we stay in this current income bracket. So I understand why nobody is interested in my photo services.

And as far as sports go, opportunities are few and far in between. There is really only one sport in Chile with a developed infrastructure, and that's soccer. But, even in soccer there are few clubs that have enough money or organization to pay people beyond the coaches and players.

Miraculously, I was in contact with a lady who started a professional women's soccer team. She had been emailing me for ideas and help back in the day when I lived in the states. Well, when I got back to Chile I sent her an email asking if she knew of any positions available. I couldn't believe my luck when she told me that she had gotten her women's soccer team affiliated and sponsored by the most important men's soccer club here (Colo Colo, in case you happen to know anything about Chilean futbol). She was looking for a Technical Assistant. I immediately went and interviewed with her, she gave me her total stamp of approval, and now we are just waiting for the club's board of directors to approve the salary for the position. If I get this job it will truly be a miracle. How I found the ONE position in all of Chile (there are only like 3 other women's "professional" futbol teams, and of those teams I'm pretty sure that most of their staff is volunteered) that is truly what I want to do in life...well, it's just amazing.

I've always loved the saying, we create our own luck. I think of myself as an incredibly lucky person, but a lot of it goes beyond luck. When I was in Chile studying abroad I tried out for the soccer team at the university I was studying at. I made it. When I left, I gave every girl on the team my email and told them if they ever needed anything not to hesitate to write. One girl wrote and asked if she could put me in contact with her friend, Paula, who was trying to start a women's professional team. I said yes, Paula contacted me, and for over a year I sent her emails with suggestions and information on how the professional women's soccer league in the US is run (the W-League). Now, two years later, the team is being sponsored for $100,000 a year by the biggest supermarket chain in Chile (ironically, not my husband's supermarket), and I might have the opportunity to work for them. Some things are not coincidence. I really hope it works out and I'm hired!

And if it doesn't, I have a back up plan. Actually, it's not even a back up because I'm planning on doing this whether or not I get another job. Remember the project I talked about, that my mom is going to sponsor? That project is a photography studio. I CAN'T WAIT! We are fixing up a room in the upstairs part of the house that hasn't been used for the last ten years. The room is huge and gets tons of light so it will make a perfect studio! Right now, we are in the process of cleaning up (and it's quite the process, let me tell you). We have been sweeping up 10 years worth of dust, cleaning up bird crap (there was a broken window pane so pigeons had been living up there), and painting. And my mom is going to finance the equipment buying. We're just starting out small with two muslin backdrops, solid black and solid white, and then buying a basic lighting kit. But even that wouldn't happen if my mom wasn't paying for it, bless her heart! Yeah, saying bless her heart sounds so old ladyish, but I had to...it just felt right.

Now, if you're still reading this eternally long entry, you're probably saying, but didn't you say that nobody in Chile is interested in your photography services? You're right...families are not. But, there is a huge demand for girls who work in promotions to get "model books" taken by professional photographers. So I am going to cater to that market. Instead of trying to create a family photography market that Chileans have never heard of, I'll go where there's a proven demand, the model book market. And, if everything goes according to plan, we will be able to rent out the studio as well. Not many people in Santiago have the space for a full-blown photography studio. It's like New York City here...space is limited, expensive and filled with rats. JK, about that last part.

So I may be able to live two of my dreams, working in women's sports, and running a successful photography business. I'm so excited about the possibilities of both!!! I feel like I have resdiscovered the purpose for my life.

When It Rains

If you read my last post about the tragic state of our finances, you were probably ready to offer me a little cheese with my whine. I apologize for being a blubbering mess, but hey, it happens to the best of us.

Anyways, after a complete day of crying (seriously. I'm pretty sure my tear ducts dried up because by the end of the day it hurt to blink), I made the decision to turn my attitude around. Sometimes you just need to wallow in order to get it out of your system.

I wrote my mom an email and just explained everything that has been going on with us; my frustrations with the job search, our debt, and a little project I have in mind that we don't have money for. Like what any other super mom would do, she responded with a listening ear, some kind words to kick my butt in gear and a gracious offer to finance my project.

And then, right after that good news from my mom, I got a call from a promotions agency I had applied at. They want me to come to casting call tomorrow for a job this weekend and next weekend. It's not extremely high paying, but it's better than nothing. My only problem is this...with all my weighty issues, do I really want to subject myself to an industry in which I'll be judged by my looks and body? For right now, I really don't have a choice, that's how bad we need the money. So I'm going to look on the bright side, a job is a job is a job, even if it terrifies me! I'll put on my thickest skin tomorrow, pray for the best, and keep my head high so that if I am rejected at the casting call, the confidence I have worked so hard to build will not be destroyed.

Anyways, these are both fantastic strokes of luck! The bloggers gods heard my cry and have rained down opportunities upon me. I will take advantage of them!