Days 25 and 26 of 365

As promised here are days 25 and 26 respectively. This is the third time I've updated the blog today...what can I say, it's a great escape from the stress of what I should be working on.

Powerful

Brought to you by Sunday Scribblings: Write about a powerful feeling.

S. and I had just gotten married in a low key ceremony in a beautiful outdoor patio of a restaurant. We had just 35 people attend the wedding, so we were surrounded by the people we truly loved and knew loved us. After the (extremely short) ceremony, we all headed back to another restaurant for the reception. In Chile, it's customary to do a "champagnazo," which is a toast with champagne that gives all the wedding guests a chance to say something to the bride and groom if they'd like. My best friend from high school took her turn, my mom spoke, S.'s dad gave a quick speech.

And then my brother stepped into the middle of the circle. He's a big guy, 6' and muscular. He commanded the room's attention. At first he pulled a couple of note cards out of his pocket but as he looked at them and cleared his throat, he quickly crumpled them up and said, "Well, I had a whole speech written down but I'm just going to wing it." A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. And then he began in earnest:

"When I first heard that my sister had a boyfriend in Chile I wasn't too happy, especially when I found out his name was Sebastian like in the Little Mermaid. I worried that he'd take Kyle away from us and we'd never get a chance to see her. I already missed her when she moved away from college and then she even left the country. But, as soon as I met Seba I figured out that he's a good guy and he makes her happy, so it's alright if they stay in Chile.

Kyle, I've looked up to you since I can remember. I guess since the day I was born. You've always been able to do everything you want to do. I know that Seba is the right guy for you because he's going to help you achieve your dreams. Together you two can do anything."

His voice cracked and his eyes were bright. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. Even my brother was about to cry, but right at that moment the wedding organizers brought the band out. The band started playing typical Chilean music, and everyone clapped along. My brother just went right to the center of the circle and started doing his own imitation of typical latin dances-so basically he was just doing the grapevine but with some hip movement action thrown in there for good measure. Everyone was cracking up!

That was a powerful moment to me for a few reasons. First of all, I never realized that my brother really had looked up to me for his whole life. And I'm glad I didn't know that before because I could've used my power for evil and not for good :P And the second thing about that part of our wedding that felt so powerful to me, was the fact that even though my brother was speaking in English and half the room were Spanish speakers only, even they were crying and laughing along with him. Power is emotions transcending language barriers.

Bike Riding Suicide Pacts

This weekend, unfortunately, has been all work and no play...aside from one gloriously bicycle outing. Yesterday, I decided that I needed a break from the endless hours spent in front of the computer. The day was beautiful so Seba and I headed out on our bikes. We hadn't been out bike riding for a while (winter just ended here)...and I had totally forgotten how dangerous the Santiago city streets can be!

In neighborhoods like mine (a.k.a. poor) the sidewalks are so full of ginormous holes or places where the concrete has buckled and rises up in huge, uneven bumps, that it's physically impossible to ride over them. It'd be like mountain biking on paths made of cement. This means in many places we have to ride in the street. Have I mentioned that Santiago drivers are crazy? Though they are quite orderly compared to many of their South American counterparts. Once while in Argentina, my taxi driver turned down a street into oncoming traffic. When I shouted "You're going the wrong way down a one way street!" he didn't respond like I thought he would. Instead of turning down a side street, or reversing the short distance to be back on the street we had just turned off of, he accelerated to dodge in and out of the cars coming at us, "Well then we better get out of here quick!"

No, things in Chile aren't that bad...but there's still the little issues of lanes. Now, I see the white lines on the street, but the drivers don't appear to know what they mean. The general rule seems to be that there are as many lanes as there are cars that can fit in the road. So if you're riding your bike out there in that jungle it can be terrifying. Autos don't exactly give you a wide berth when they fly by so close that you get hit with gravel from their spinning tires.

But, let's talk about signage. That's what really gets me. Even being on a lane specially marked for bicycles, with a crosswalk sign that actually has a little green and red stick figure riding his bike, you're still in danger. When the bicycle crosswalk turned green, we started crossing...but ooooooh, wait! Somebody else has a green light too! The truck that has a left hand turn arrow directly into our bike path. It's seriously like a death trap for cyclists, set up to warn Santiago bikers that they shouldn't dare go any farther.

My conclusion-Santiago is not for lovers on romantic bike rides. Santiago is for lovers who have made a ride to their deaths suicide pact.

Pictures for today and yesterday to follow, I can't get them off my camera!

Gems

Day 24: Blurry picture, don't care, want to sleep.


Gems from my husband:

Me: My knees are really swollen, they hurt.
S: Maybe you should go to a doctor.
Me: I don't want to, they're just going to do tests and never figure out what's wrong, I've been through this before.
S: Actually they'll probably just cut everything off from the waist down.
Me: But my thighs and my vagina don't hurt, just my knees.
S: We do things different down here in Chile, mi amor.

Me: How come you didn't bring me a chocolate today?
S: Because I got dropped off in front of the house. I didn't want to walk a whole block away just for your stupid chocolate.
Me: I see. So romance is all about convenience for you?
S (who is a Construction Project Manager): No, if that were true I'd bring you home gifts of bags of dry concrete, jackhammers and workboots.

FIVE Hours

Day 22 and 23: Yes, that's me on the crapper. And the second picture is me with my new temporary residence visa, valid for one year, wooohoo!

So that's what I was doing all day yesterday. Crapping and getting my visa. Remember how I waited four hours the last time I was at the immigration offices? This time it was five. My experience was as follows:

11:00am: Arrive at immigration offices (Ministerio Interior)
11:00-11:30: Wait in line to get a number for another line.
11:30-11:35: Argue with the lady handing about the numbers which was next pass. The debate was whether I needed to be in the line for Visas or Stamps. She said Visas, I said, I already have a visa, I need a stamp on my passport now. Then she proceeded to notify me that I had to wait in the Visa line because they would give me an "Orden de Pago," or payment order. I would need to take that payment order to the special bank that works with immigration offices and stand in line there to pay for my visa. Once I had proof of payment, only then could I get the stamp on my visa.
11:30-1:45: Wait outside on the grass outside of La Moneda reading Newsweeks that my mom sent me. This is where I was, it's quite nice especially now that it's spring:



1:50: Sprint back to the immigration offices so they don't lock me out. The doors close at 2.
1:50-3:30: Still waiting
3:35-3:45: I finally had my turn with the lady at the Visas window. She told me that since I was a U.S. citizen we didn't have to pay for the visa (hallelujah, no waiting in line at the bank and no $80 dollar charge!). But, WTF, why didn't the lady handing out the numbers know that?!? She's supposed to send people to the right line, it's HER JOB. I showed her my U.S. passport and my visa papers and she still thought I needed to pay. Anyways, I conversed with the Visa lady who told me that now I could get my passport stamped and I'd be kosher, as long as I had a few pertinent documents...ummm, what documents? I needed proof of activities to be performed in Chile and documents that stated I was able to financially maintain myself. I had the financial documents, of my husband's salary, because we had needed those to apply for the first part of the visa way back in May, but I carry all my important visa papers around in the same folder. So they just happened to be in there. BUT, I had nothing stating what I do here in Chile. Was I supposed to have my bosses write emails stating that I'm online all day long writing stories and answer emails? I wasn't quite sure what the woman meant. Think fast Kyle!

"Ummm, I don't do anything here in Chile. I'm a housewife. So do I need papers to prove that?" Little white lie. What the government doesn't know doesn't hurt them. I'm strong believer in tax evasion.

I felt like I'm not a very believable liar, but she bought it. I guess it's not a stretch. I've had lots of people assume that if I married a Chilean, he obviously must be a rich Chilean. I mean, of course, it's logical...every gringo has boatloads of money and of course we would never marry below us. That is why I married Seba and we now live in this beautiful mansion in the nicest neighborhood in all of Santiago, Estacion Central:



By the way, that's my mom, Seba's family's car, outside our house, with the neighborhood delinquents' graffiti that we don't bother painting over because we know they'll just re-do their handiwork another night.

So anyways, the woman then tells me that I'll need a notarized document signed by my husband saying that he plans to support me. But she gets a very grave, scared look on her face when she tells me I'll have to get that and come back tomorrow to wait in the Stamp line to finish up the rest of the paperwork I need. I supposed she seemed frightened because a lot of people probably go ballistic when she tells them that. Then with a conspiratorial beckoning of her finger, she motions me closer.

government lady:"Do you have a baby?"

me, confused: "Perdon???"

government lady:"Bring a baby with you, that may help you jump to the front of the line."

Smile and nod, slowly back away. She's crazy; she may blow a fuse at any minute. Ok, now where can I steal a baby? No, stealing is unnecessary. Seba's friend's Opus Dei virgin girlfriend is pregnant. This baby is the next messiah; he/she would definitely get me to the front of the line. Can I wait six months to complete my visa? Nope, I'd be an illegal alien in this country. Again. It's not the danger/risk of being deported that comes from being illegal that worries me. It's the fact that to un-illegal yourself you have to stand in all these damn lines again. Alright, bringing a baby is out.

WAIT! I was about to walk out the door when I remembered that I had cajoled the number doler outer into giving me a number for the Stamps line! Would they have passed that number already? Go back and check...nope. There's still another hundred numbers before they get to 337. Would these people turn me down because I don't have the right documents notarized? Oh well, only a hundred numbers is worth waiting to find out if it means I won't have to come back and wait another five hours the next day.

3:45-4:30: Wait, while the numbers before me get called...and skipped over. By this time too many people have either given up and left or thrown themselves out of the window out of desperation.

4:30: It's my turn. I need to get my visa stamped, I have all the papers I need, I lie nervously. I hand her my envelope full of documents and pray she doesn't realize that there's nothing notarized inside.

government lady dos: "What do you do in Chile?"

me: "Nothing, I'm married."

government lady dos, looks over my papers: "Ok, we don't need proof of that."

How convenient! She rifles through all the paperwork again, gives them a second glance again and looks up at me. Oh no! She's discovered my secret...I'm not notarized!

government lady dos: "Who are you married to?"

me: "ummm, Senor S.N.L.L."

government lady dos impatiently: "Well what's his nationality?"

me: "He's Chilean."

goverment lady dos with eyes widening: "REALLY? How did you two meet?!?"

I tell her the story and suddenly she's calling over her supervisor asking him to quick run my name through his computer and check. Yep, everything's good, STAMP, STAMP, sign here, another stamp, sign again. Ok thank you so much, here's the documentation you need, you can now leave and entry the country freely as well as work if you'd like.

These people take care of their own. I bet you twenty bucks if I had told her I was married to any other nationality she would have told me to come back tomorrow and the next day....and the next day...until I eventually left the country out of hatred for the Chilean immigration system.

4:45: I practically skipped out the door! I was so happy to be done with paperwork and waiting and long lines and government employees! I got everything over with and I didn't even need a baby to do it. Then I glanced at the documents she had handed to me on my way out.

YOU HAVE THIRTY DAYS TO:
1. Register with the International Police. You will then be given documentation to apply for Chilean ID.
2. Apply for your Chilean ID at the Registro Civil.

FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN BLAH BLAH BLAH LOTS OF BAD STUFF.

So I have to go wait in line at Policia Internacional which is not as bad as immigration services but it's still horrible. There they'll give me more paperwork in order to permit me to get my Chilean ID and I'll need to go stand in line at the Registro Civil, which is even worse than Immigration Services. OMG, by the time I'm done with all this crap we'll be ready to leave for our trip around the world.

Sleepy

Day 21:

Do I look tired? Good, because I am. Actually tired is an understatement. The bags under my eyes make me look like I'm on drugs. I'm not. Those purple beauties were a gift passed down to me by a caring father.

I have been running on 6 hours of sleep a night, plus a 30 minute nap in the middle of the day when I take my "lunch break." Oddly enough I used to do the same thing when I worked an office job. During my lunch hour I'd go out to my car, set my phone as an alarm, and pass out. The best part is that I worked at United Soccer Leagues, located in FL, right above a social security office. My Jeep Wrangler was the oldest, crappiest (hottest) car in the world and it didn't have air conditioning. So I'd nap with all the windows down praying for the cool breeze that never came, just waiting for the day when I woke up next to random old man who'd left the S.S. offices and gotten into my car by mistake. I'm telling you, there were some characters walking around that parking lot!

Anyways, back to my lack of sleep. I know for some of you that's a good night's rest! I'm not like you people. Six hours is a nap for me. I need at least 10 consecutive hours to feel well-rested. And considering the fact that just three months ago I was sleeping an average of probably 14 hours a night...this is sheer madness! I hope I get used to this whole waking up early thing, it's kind of a foreign concept to me. But I do like being busy and I like what I'm doing. It's just hard to keep my eyes open while I'm doing it.

Hungry

Day 20: Do you like my wedding ring?

This past weekend S. and I were out on a walk. On our way home we have to pass two Chinese restaurants, and outside one of them was an old man. Let me be clear about one thing. We smelled him before we saw him. He was hunched and frail looking, his layer upon layer of clothes all hung off as if he were nothing more than a human hanger. His face was black and dirty but his eyes were piercing. They were hungry. With a beer tucked under one arm he stood at the doorway of the Chinese restaurant looking in. As people walked past him, he made eye contact but he didn't beg for spare change. The smell of fried wontons and Mongolian beef was so strong in the air that my stomach rumbled. I could only imagine what the odors were doing to this gentleman who hadn't eaten in days.

I asked my husband for change. He didn't have any, neither did I. We were both in workout clothes that didn't even have pockets. The only item we carried between the two of us were the house keys.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears. He looked so hungry. S. trying to make me feel better said, "He would've just spent your money on more alcohol anyways." I didn't care. S. then pointed out, "You'd just be fueling the habit that put him on the streets to begin with."

At first I thought he was right. Maybe I would've just been wasting my money in trying to help the old man. But after arriving home I came to a conclusion...

Who are we to judge???

If I were living out on the streets, in the cold, with no walls to protect me from the wind, I too might opt for a strong drink to warm me up and make me forget for a while, rather than a bite to eat that would only leave me feeling hungry again in just a few short hours. If I give him money does that mean he's obligated to do with it what I want him to? Of course not. People always judge the homeless or the needy for what they spend their money on. When I was younger, at Christmas time, my brother and I used to choose wish lists from families that were bad off and had registered with the Santa Claus Girls to be "adopted" by someone who would buy some of the presents they had asked for. One year I showed the list I had chosen to a friend. She asked me with outrage, "Why would a poor kid ask for Nike tennis shoes? He should be asking for food and clothes that he actually needs!"

Maybe that little boy wanted shoes that would make him feel like the rest of his classmates. Maybe he looked up to Michael Jordan and wanted to be like his idol. Maybe having new shoes would give him a new dignity.

You really can not possibly know the motivations behind people's desires unless you have walked a mile in their shoes. The saying is cliché, but it always rings true.

Not a Boy, Not Yet a Woman

Day 19: I am SO tired and busy. I was very tempted to not write a "real," post because I really don't have the time. But, I don't want to get into that habit. So I decided to draw inspiration from Sunday Scribblings, Hi, My Name Is theme.

"Hi, my name is Kyle. No, no, not pronounced Kylie, just Kyle. Yes, like the boy's name. No, I'm not joking."

That, my friends, is how I have started too many conversations in my lifetime. People are constantly getting confused by name. I don't really understand the confusion, to be honest. In this day and age there are all kinds of girls with boys names and vice versa. The world really shouldn't be so shocked by an unconventional name anymore!

I guess it throws most people off even more that my brother's name is Kelsey. Hahaha. NO, we were not switched at birth, nor were our parents confused when they christianed us Kyle and Kelsey.

When I was little I hated being a girl Kyle. As I'm sure you can imagine, the teasing was merciless. I remember when I got a short haircut (a bowl cut, THANKS MOM!). My mother will tell you I begged for the haircut. I think she just got sick of trying to brush my ratty hair into a ponytail every morning while I screamed, "Get the lumps oooooooout!" Yes, only slicked back hair, without a bump in sight, completely plastered to my head was acceptable to my third grade fashion sense. Anyways, the first day I went to class with my new short haircut I have vivid memories of a girl named Melody walking up and saying, "Oh, we have a new boy in our class," and then laughing evilly. When I protested, she replied, "Well, you have short hair and a guy's name, you probably have a THINGY too." Thingy was code for penis.

Those were the moments that made me long to be named something like Sarah Smith, Jane Doe, or Jessica Nobody.

I grew out of that pretty quickly though. By 8th grade I was working my guy's name like a rock star. When the accusations of "You have a boy's name," would come flying, my response was, "Yeah, well. I'm gonna be famous. Famous people have cool names that aren't the same as everyone else." Obviously I had no idea what I was going to be famous for. I couldn't (can't) sing, act or dance to save my life. But that didn't really matter. The movie star name is what counts. I'm now thinking that photography is what will save me from obscurity :)

My brother had it easier. He could just tell people he was named after Kelsey Grammer. It's always easier to defend yourself if an actual famous person has already been down that road.

These days I love my name. Nobody can pronounce it in Spanish, the l gets swallowed and becomes an r. When introducing myself most people here think I'm saying Carol until I spell it out for them. Although that doesn't always go too well either. But, I'm still happy to be unique.

Out Of the Red

Day 18: I have had to work all day but I figured since it's Saturday I deserve a glass of wine while I'm toiling away :)

My dad just got a new contract (he has a mystery shopping business and I work for him). It's a huge job...which has meant a massive workload for the both of us in the past couple days. I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit stressed out. But, I'm SO excited, because with the total amount I'm making from him I'll now be able to cover my entire student loan payment every month (yes, I have a MASSIVE monthly payment. I went to the most expensive damn school in the world).

And this month, S. and I will be out of debt (aside from the student loans but I don't even count those anymore). Starting the last day of September we'll be out of the red and will have enough left over to last us through the month of October. Which means we'll be able to start saving...which means we'll be leaving for a trip around the world that much sooner!

This is a boring entry, but I'm just happy to be a little more financially secure. Plus I don't have the time or energy to write anything longer or more in depth. Sorry!

PS. Speaking of my dad's mystery shopping business, we need people to do shops for us in Tampa, Florida and Manhattan, Kansas...so if any readers are from those areas, let me know!

PS. Caroline from Brussels, email me if you want to meet up while you're in Chile! my email address is on my other website (www.lovetotravelchile.com) in the About section.

Travel DNA

Day 17: (Day 16 that I posted today was actually from yesterday)

Today S. and I started talking about why we want to travel. The discussion got started because last night we had friends over and everybody got to telling what their plans in life are. There were five guys and their five girlfriends and when asked where they saw themselves a few years down the road, every single answer was the same.

"I want to get married, have kids and be working as a successful ______."

We rocked the boat a bit when we stated that we want to travel for at least a year, move to a different country, possibly in Europe, and not settle to have kids for another 10 years or so.

To me it is so unfathomable to want to start raising a family before you get out to see the world. And that's not saying that I think people who do that don't have fantastic lives, but it's just never something I have wanted for myself. The day will probably arrive someday but for right now I can't imagine thinking to myself, "buying a house and being ball and chained to one place is what I really want." When we do have kids, I'd like for them to be true citizens of the world. Hopefully we can expose them to as many cultures and languages as possible while they're young and have open minds.

This got me to thinking. What makes a person have that need? Travelers often speak of that "itch" that makes them want to pick up and explore new places. Is it because they were bitten by a wandering mosquito and didn't happen to have any life stability ointment on hand? Is it because of the way they were raised? Or is it just in their genes? Nature vs. Nurture.

In my case, I completely blame my mom. She packed me up and shipped me off to Chile for a summer when I was only 14. I studied abroad for three months and after that I never felt satisfied staying in one place. My dad loves to travel as well. And in S.'s case, well, his parents are homebodies now, but waaaaay back in the day before they got to near retirement age, they actually met while studying abroad in France. S. and I must both have some strong travelers DNA if that's what causes the need to globe trot! And our poor future kids...they're doomed to a life of restlessness.

Of course, they say financial resources are also an issues. Money is a factor in everything these days. Not many people in Chile can afford to travel and even in the U.S. it's not like every single middle class family is able to pay for a luxury backpacking trip through Europe and South America. But, I still wonder about that...because I know tons of people who have way more money than I do, yet they'd rather put a down payment on a house, buy a nice car and have a pair of Louboutin's and a few Louis Vuitton handbags in their closet. It's all about priorities.

I also know people who could also afford travel but have probably never even contemplated it because they'd rather spend their whole lives living inside their comfort zone. For me, that's not easy to understand. My whole life I've spent wondering what else is out there in the big bad world.

Is it genes? Is it the way you were raised? Is it money? Maybe it's a little of both. We'll probably never know, I doubt that finding a cure for the travel bug is a high priority on scientists' to do list. But, that's certainly ok with me :)

FOUR Hours

Day 16:

Today I had to go get some visa permanent residency stuff taken care of. I was expecting it to be dreadful, as usual, but I had on my patient face. When it comes to traffic jams and long lines, I'm a shockingly tolerant person. Both are pretty unavoidable so why stress and put yourself in a bad mood. I just figure, I'll get there when I get there...

But today, at the visa office in Santiago, my patience ran thin. I was in line for FOUR hours in a tiny little room with probably a couple hundred people. I first stood in line for 45 minutes just to get a number for the other lines. My number was 421 and they were going on 98 when I arrived. It was so hot and stifling up there, there was absolutely no room to even stand. People were packed in like sardines. The conditions were inhumane. All of it started to make me so angry because these situations are avoidable. But, Chile LOVES bureaucracy and paperwork and long lines. A history professor of mine actually told me that the government doesn't try to make any of the operations more efficient because they employ too many people as it is. So it makes sense that the immigration offices are out of control. We could all mail our visa stuff in, but you can't, you must present it in person. They could streamline the process so instead of standing in one line to get a piece of paper that approves you to get a stamp on your passport and then having to go stand in another line just to get that stamp, you could do everything in the same place. But no, of course not. The government would rather employ 10 more Chileans and let the immigrants (who are almost all Peruvian and Bolivian) suffer. It's seriously a ridiculous situation.

I left after waiting in line for four hours and I have to go back and do it again tomorrow. That's baloney!

When I was riding the metro to go home a lady shoved me so hard that I bumped into the guy next to me and both of us almost fell over. She didn't say excuse me, or sorry or anything. She came up from behind so I couldn't see her but all she had to do was ask me to move or just tap me on the shoulder and I would've gladly gotten out of the way. Rude bitch. And on top of everything the metro stopped at every single station for a ten minute break. I don't know if the driver was still celebrating Fiestas Patrias up there with a bottle of pisco or what, but something wasn't working the way it should have. So what is normally a 20 minute ride, turned into 40. I could've walked home quicker, but unfortunately, I can't do that because my neighborhood is too dangerous. Yes, even during the day! About 8 blocks from where I live there's a gang of thieves that were even featured on the news a couple weeks ago. And naturally, since I'm the only blond within a 10 mile radius from where I live, if I even go near that area I'll be the first person they'll target me to rob. So I took the never ending metro ride.

And now there are two constructions sites on the block that I live on. TWO. I'm never going to make it out of here alive. I need to find an alternative route to get to the metro because even in the U.S. I wouldn't brave walking by two construction sites in a row.

As they say in Scrubs, "Well, isn't that just the pickle on the top of the giant crap sandwich that is my day."

Basically, I just had an I HATE CHILE moment. It happens to anyone living abroad every once in a while(I think). You imagine that if you were somewhere else you wouldn't have these problems. The grass is always greener in your home country if you no longer live there.

I need a nap, I think then I'll feel better. Right now I just wish I were anywhere but here.

Photoshop Before and After

Day 15:

As you've probably guessed by now, I'm pretty into photography, and I absolutely LOVE editing photos. I started messing around with photoshop about a year or two ago and now that I know the power of what it can do, I never look at a magazine cover the same. Just look at the before of today's self portrait.



I don't normally edit my photos quite so much. I mean, I always play around with the color. I just don't usually bother to edit out the bags from under my eyes, or my freckles and wrinkles. This time I was just trying out a new tutorial (here it is, if you're interested).

After having started to use photoshop on my pictures, my perspective is now totally warped. Even snapshots that I take at parties with friends on my little point and shoot camera now go through photoshop just to adjust for exposure and contrast. I can't handle looking at reality anymore, I have to change it all to comply with my standard of beauty. And sometimes I'm not sure which image is telling the truth. In this case, the first image on the page is obviously lying. But say, for instance, that you're on a beach watching a beautiful sunset. You grab your camera, take a few shots...and when you get home and see those same pictures on your computer, you say, "It was so much prettier in person, the pictures don't do it justice." How many times have we heard people say that? With photoshop, you can usually get back the vibrancy of color that your eyes saw in real life, but that your camera couldn't transfer back to the image. Which is real? Is it the image straight out of the camera that doesn't fit with what our eyes thought they saw? Or is it the photoshopped image that doesn't fit with the "reality" that our camera captured.

Chilean Monsters

Day 14:

Look hard, I'm in there somewhere!

Today S. and I went to a fonda. It's kind of like a patriotic Chilean fair, but if you want more information check out my other blog (http://www.lovetotravelchile.com/). Some of the fondas here in Santiago are mostly for grown-ups...there are millions of tents featuring different alcohols and foods and dancing music. But, S. and I ended up going to a more kiddy oriented one today and it was PACKED. I do not like crowds at all (which is ironic because I live in Santiago, and I swear to you there's not one non crowded corner in this whole city)...and to be honest I'm not a huge kid person. Ok, that's actually a lie...ever since I met my husband and started having sex my maternal instinct started to kick in. I should be more specific. I do not really like Chilean kids. I have yet to meet one that is not spoiled out of his/her mind. Little ones under the age of five are pretty much out of control in this country. The Chilean form of discipline seems to be asking the children to behave, rather than telling them. I can't tell you how many times I've seen little kids at the mall misbehaving completely (running around screaming at a restaurant, hitting a complete stranger in a random store, throwing food products off the aisles and onto the floor in the supermarket)...and the mom will be begging and pleading with the child to behave himself. "Please sweetie pie, I'm asking, pretty please, behave yourself. Honey, mommy will buy you whatever you want, just please pleeeeease stop screaming, I'm begging you."

I'm not saying I've never seen a naughty kid in other countries, but usually in the U.S. when you see a kid screaming in a public place the mom looks either embarrassed, REALLY mad, or totally apologetic. I just feel bad for those poor moms that are doing the best they can to get their kid under control. But I have no sympathy for mothers here in Chile that let their children run the show and don't ever discipline them. My mother in law has actually said to me that most Chilean women believe that giving children here any kind of discipline stifles their personalities and they believe that when a kid is growing up you should just let him/her be.

Also, I don't know if this is just my imagination, but I feel like Chilean kids have higher pitched voices than kids in other countries. Or maybe I have been so conditioned against children in this country that their voices have some special high tone that only I can hear...like the way dogs can hear pitches that nobody else can.

So anyways, the fonda that I went to today was chock full of those little screaming monsters. And there was different music coming out of like 10 different speakers, plus the god awful smell of animal manure, barbecued meat, and bakery products. We were both so overstimulated, we stayed maybe a half hour and left.

But there were positives throughout the day. Last night S. and I had a long talk about things we both need to do to get our relationship running a little smoother. There are definitely things we both need to work on, but I take solace in the fact that every time we have a good heartfelt discussion we both learn a little something and hopefully take it with us to better our communication in the future. And then today, the walk to the fonda was about 30 minutes both ways and we talked and goofed around and had a good time with each other. I felt like we had cleared the air and were able to put all the crap behind us. It was nice. So thanks to everybody who left a comment yesterday. You guys reminded me that I'm not the only newlywed to go through rough patches, and that helped me keep things in perspective. I appreciate that.

More Anger and Empanadas

Day 13:

My husband doesn't have to go back to work until Thursday. I should be enjoying this, but instead we just keep picking fights with each other. Honestly, I don't know what happened to the time when we used to just enjoy each other's company. Of course, we have our good moments and our bad moments, and more often than not we're happy together. But, lately it just seems like the rough patches are more frequent. It really takes it's toll on me emotionally. Truth be told, I have very few friends in Chile. Ok, I guess if I were really being truthful, I'd just say, I have no friends in Chile. So basically my husband is my world. That's dangerous for couples and I know that, so I really do throw myself into my own stuff...my travel website, my photography, writing, jogging and exercising...I keep up my hobbies. Hobbies aren't people though, and nothing will replace human contact. Most week days S. is the only person I see. So if we're fighting and mad at each other my whole world comes crashing down. Does that make sense? His importance in my life supersedes any actual argument that we may be having because as soon as he starts acting like an asshat, I'm alone. We both need to work on remedying the situation. I need to find friends and he needs to not be an buttmunch, simple as that.

Sorry that's a little heavy for today. I actually didn't mean to write a whole post. I was just going to come on here, post the picture and tell you all that I had an empanada for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and possibly brunch and linner as well)...and I loved every second of it. Forget complaining about being fat, I'd rather dig into a juicy empanada and savor every bite!

Substitute 1 Empanada For 1 Jog

Day 12:

Shocker, I am posting my picture for today...today! My husband took these pictures of me outside of the Chilean public library and I liked them both, so here you are. We walked to the park nearby where I go jogging. I wanted to exercise but because so many (inebriated) people were there celebrating September 18th the biggest Chilean holiday*, my husband didn't want me to. He said, and I quote, "I'm not going to run next to you with a giant stick wacking all the drunk people who want to harass the blond jogger. I won't be your body shield if they throw bottles at you either." So instead of exercising we ate empanadas and walked around taking pictures.

*in case you're curious what this Chilean slosh fest is all about I just put a post with pictures up at my other blog, http://www.lovetotravelchile.com/

I'm frustrated because I really wanted to get in at least a short run today. I have been overeating terribly and not doing enough exercise to counteract the effects. Up down up down up down, it's like I'm bungee jumping...I just lost the weight from my last vacation and now I'm gaining again. I'm also bummed, because my knees have been really sore lately. They're not hurting, like I injured them, they're just achy, like I'm getting old. When I get home from my jog every day and sit down at the computer my knees are always throbbing! And yeah, that means I don't shower right away. I like to marinade in my own sweat for a while. JK, that's not why. I'm just usually too tired to move for a good couple of hours afterwards. For me, if my muscles aren't quivering like the lower lip of little rugrat trying not to cry, it wasn't a real workout.

So I've been on a consistent exercising schedule for a month, now I just need to get my diet put together and I'll be all set for bikini season (right around the corner in this hemisphere, yay for being below the equator!).

Anyways, in more important news....

If you haven't voted for me yet, pleaaaaaaaaaaaase vote for my story and my picture, both of which are in the running to be published in JPG Magazine if they get enough votes. Click here to read the full story on the contest. You have to register to vote but it just takes two seconds and I will be so appreciative!

Click here to vote for my article: http://www.jpgmag.com/stories/1290
Click here to vote for my picture: http://www.jpgmag.com/photos/221286

Playing The Naming Game

Day 11:

Here is my photo from yesterday. I seem to be making a habit of uploading the previous day's photo one day late. Oh well, my game, my rules :)

Dear readers, I need your help. Most of you are probably a lot more creative than me, so I want you to help me think of a title for a book of photos that I'm self publishing. The book is of photos of Chile. I'm making it as a gift for my family that is coming down again to visit and I also might sell copies on my other blog (www.lovetotravelchile). Chile Desde Adentro, Chile From Within, Chile Through My Eyes, Chile Con Amor? AHHHHH, I have no idea, I need help! Use your creativity and tell me what you think would be a great idea for the book title. Thanks!

Shaking Things Up At the Boy's Club

Day 10:

The first picture is my office. The second picture is me inside at night wishing I could still be outside working in my office :) Those are from yesterday, later on I'll upload Day 11. This whole picture every day and blog every day thing is a lot harder than I had expected!

Anyways, I feel like I have a lot to update since yesterday's post was a mini...

I have had a great week! An AMAZING week! At my online job, I received not one, but two mini "promotions" or added responsibilities and even a little more money. I am thrilled! Honestly, I never had any idea that I'd start working as a celebrity gossip blogger in Chile. I wasn't specifically looking for online jobs or anything like that, I just randomly came across the job posting and applied on a whim. I got hired 10 weeks ago as a ghost writer. Aside from writing stories, I'm now selling ads for the website, doing the weekly newsletter and my boss just asked me to be a sort of stand in editor for days when she can't be around to double check and upload everyone's posts. I have learned a massive amount about what being a professional blogger is all about (it's way more work than you can imagine!) and I just feel really happy that I have been given all these extra responsibilities. It's nice to know that my boss trusts me and I take pride in knowing that whatever I do, I do it well. So I just wanted to share that because I'm too thrilled to no tell everyone!

The highlight of my week was going to watch Chile play at Ruby Tuesday's (yes, I went there twice in one week, hahaha). My husband had an interview near the restaurant and of course he didn't want to wear his "nerd clothes" to work so I told him I'd meet up with him and bring him a bag filled with his interview outfit if he'd treat me to lunch. After we ate, he left for the interview (which went swimmingly by the way) and I decided to move to the bar to watch the Chile v. Austria because I couldn't see from the table I was sitting at. The bar was already almost full and there wasn't a single woman sitting at it. I approached and pulled up a stool and the look on every man's face pretty much said it all, "WTF is this girl doing trying to join the Boy's Club?!?" I sat down and ordered the girliest thing I could think of, a coffee drink with whipped cream and chocolate drizzled on top. The guy next to me (obviously assuming that I couldn't understand him) told his friend, "My wife won't even let me watch soccer in the house....and she would NEVER go to a bar alone to watch a game!" As if going to a bar alone is some kind of sin that a woman should never commit. Whatever. If those guys don't want femininity in their boys club than they shouldn't be sitting there drinking Amaretto Sours! Order a beer, mother trucker, if you want to be macho, don't try be intimidating by giving me the evil eye so I won't sit next to you.

The entire first half passed and nobody spoke to me even though they were all conversing amongst themselves. There were two older guys to my left and the guy who had made the wife not going to bars alone comment to my right. I got up to go to the bathroom and asked the old men if they would watch my stuff and save my spot. They obliged and when I got back I asked them how they felt about the game. They were shocked that I spoke Spanish and even more shocked by how much I know about futbol. When I told them where I was from, one of the old man, said, "NO WAY! I thought you were German for sure!" I asked him why and he told me that I speak Spanish too well to be gringo. Europeans always manage the language much better. Talk about a backhanded compliment...jeez! Apparently in his mind people from the U.S. are not as capable with Spanish as their European counterparts. This same guy also told me later on that I did not look older than 15. Seriously, he had no filter.

Anyways, by the end of the game I had the whole bar asking me questions about women's soccer. Most of them had no idea that the Women's World Cup even existed and when I told them that the U.S. team is like the Brazil of the men's World Cup they were so shocked. Someone also wanted to know if the rules for women's soccer were different so that the females playing wouldn't get hurt...after all soccer is a violent game, not something that ladies are used.

I made sure they knew that their idea of women and sports was extremely convoluted.

I'd like to think that I opened a few chauvinistic eyes, but I'm sure they forgot all we talked about before the game was even over. Oh well, you can't say I didn't try.

Double Whammy

You get Day 8 and Day 9 together. I just now took my pictures from yesterday off the camera so I edited them together. I have no time or creativity to do something fun, so black and white it is!

So much is going on with me right now, and I have to say that it feels GOOD to be busy again! For the longest time here in Chile I really felt like I had nothing to do. I was sleeping in every day until 3pm and even when I got up I'd just play around on the internet. Well, now I am waking up well before noon (shut up, that's huge for me) and I still don't have time to get everything I need to done. Every day I have more and more business ideas for how I can promote my studio or new things I can do with my other website (www.lovetotravelchile.com). My husband is also sooooooooooo close to getting a new job which will be more money, and we're also keeping our fingers crossed that they send us to another city. A change of air would be so nice!

Basically life is good, but busy, and that's the way uh huh, uh huh I like it*.

*I'm such a nerd, I can't believe I actually just typed that.

The Near Death of My Faith in Humanity

Day 7:

You wanted the story of the time I was mugged...well here at Just Married Chilean Style my policy is "Ask and ye shall receive." It's long so buckle up and keep your hands and legs inside the ride please.

I had arrived in Chile only 5 days before I was mugged and it actually happened on my first night with my host family. I had met them earlier that same day-a mom and a daughter both named Lucy. Although, because my Spanish was so bad I didn't understand that the daughter was named Lucy too and whenever Mom Lucy referred to daughter Lucy by her name, I just thought the mom was talking about herself in third person. I arrived at their house, didn't even unpack my stuff and headed out with friends to explore the city and find out what Santiago night life had to offer me. The whole outing almost turned out to be uneventful. In fact I don't even remember what we did or where we went.

But I do remember what happened as I was heading home.

One of the girls who lived nearby my host family asked if I wanted to share a taxi. I accepted her offer and we asked the driver to drop us off exactly in the middle of both our apartment complexes. It was two blocks east to my apartment and two blocks west to hers.

AT only about 12:30 am, in a well lit, well off neighborhood, I thought I'd be fine going those two blocks to my apartment. Actually to be honest, I never even thought about it. I was literally 3 minutes from my apartment. I also felt safe because there were two bus stops within my range of sight and I could see at least 10 people waiting at both.

And before you call me stupid, just let me say that I'm from small town, Midwest U.S.A. Where I grew up you could've went jogging naked at 4am and nothing would've ever happened. Not that I ever did that...I'm just saying. Point being, I wasn't stupid, just really naive.

So I was cheerfully strolling along, not a care in the world, walking those last two blocks home, when all of a sudden, before I had a chance to react at all, two guys ran up to me from behind, covered my mouth, and carried me to the shadowy dark side of a building. I was writhing and squiggling while they carried as much as possible but I didn't stand a chance. There were two of them and they were both bigger and stronger than me. I'm not exactly a contender for American Gladiator (btw, raise your hand if you LOVED that show when you were a kid...I did!)

The worst part is that while they were carrying me off to where nobody could see me...I could see people. I was staring at everyone at the bus stop trying so hard to scream and get their attention so they would come help. But, because my mouth was covered by one of the thug's hands with a glove on, any noise I made was way too muffled to be heard.

That's what haunts me to this day. I continue to have nightmares that I'm screaming and nobody can hear. Sometimes I'll dream that people are breaking into my house and I can't make enough noise to wake S. up. Sometimes I'll have dreams that I'm being kidnapped and I'm calling my family to tell them where I am but I have no voice to talk even though my lips are moving. The nightmares vary but I'm always mute and it's horrifying.

The two guys took me to the side of the building nearest us and pinned me down on the ground on my back. I actually didn't panic. When they laid me on the ground I remember what I had been told in my study abroad orientation program, "If you're being robbed don't fight back because your attackers may have a weapon." So I stayed as still as can be while they went through all my pockets. I was wearing a big winter coat and they took my cell phone, my keys and some loose change from the outer pockets. I absolutely did not move while they did that. But when one of them tried to reach a hand under my coat I completely freaked out. They only thought going through my mind at that point was, "I would rather die than be raped."

I reacted instantly to the hand trying to go under my coat and I think they were extremely caught off guard since up until that point I hadn't moved a hair. A huge adrenaline rush surged through me and I started thrashing violently. I caught them so by surprise that I managed to get flipped over onto my stomach and they lost a hold on covering my mouth. I also kicked one of them REALLY hard (I think it may have been a shin I made contact with but I'm not sure) and I was wearing boots with a pointed toe. I get some satisfaction out of knowing that the guy probably went home with a terribly nasty bruise. Nobody picks a fight with me and gets out unscathed.

Anyways, as soon I got flipped over and they weren't covering my mouth anymore I started screaming at the top of my lungs. They immediately got up and sprinted away.

As I stood up watching them flee I started yelling (all in English, I barely spoke Spanish that early on in my trip) out obscenities. I'm pretty sure I said something along the lines of, "That's right BLEEPS, run away mother BLEEPERS! BLEEPING BLEEPHOLES, Don't BLEEP BLEEP with me!" My first emotion was PURE rage, as you can tell.

But that only lasted an instant, and then the stupidest thing came out of my mouth, still in English, "Wait! Why did you take my keys?!? I neeeeeed those!" And with that, I burst into tears. Once I started there was no stopping me and I quickly became hysterical.

I walked past the bus stops sobbing and nobody even glanced my way. I finally ran into a policeman. He stopped and looked concerned but the language barrier was too huge to begin with and on top of that I was so upset I couldn't even understand my own thoughts...let alone a stranger speaking a foreign language to me. I'm sure he was asking me what was wrong, but what do I know. The conversation very well could've gone like this:

Policeman: "If I give you tea and cookies will you stop crying stupid Gringa?"
Me: "Gurgleblurble areb lksdfoieks, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH."
Policeman: "Ok, I'll take that as a yes. I can't wait to tell my friends that I asked a blond on a date and she said si! Right this way."

Seriously, that was probably what he said because the first thing that happened when we got to the police station was him bringing me a tray of cookies and offering me tea and telling me that I was pretty.

After hours of me continuing to cry and eat cookies and not understand anything I finally sort of communicated what had happened and they made me fill out the most ridiculous police report ever. I didn't know my own address in Chile, I didn't know my passport number...I probably spelled my own name wrong too. And I definitely didn't know any vital information on identifying characteristics of my attackers.

"Suspects have brown hair and one is wearing jeans, and one is wearing gloves."

Sure, good luck with that. I bet they were able to catch the bad guys. Yep.

Around 3:30am I finished at the police station and they tried to bring me to my host family's house. I say tried because we drove around in circles for at least 45 minutes while I looked for my house. I was so disoriented that I had no idea where my home was in relation to the police station. When we finally found the building of course by that time it was 4:30am and I had no idea what apartment number I lived in. So I just buzzed EVERY SINGLE BUZZER in the building. Various people answered and I just kept saying, "Me llamo Kyle," hoping somebody would figure out who I belonged to. Sure enough, my host mom came down to let me in...and the look on her face was priceless. She was SHOCKED. I mean, c'mon, wouldn't you have been? Here I am, this gringa that she's known less than 24 hours. I come home and my face is streaked with eyeliner, I'm accompanied by two policemen and my eyes are so squinty and red from crying I can barely see. She probably thought I had been arrested for prostitution or drug abuse...or both.

I didn't have the Spanish to tell her or my program directors about what had really happened. I mean, they figured out that I was robbed, but almost everybody in the program gets at least a cell phone stolen from them eventually, so nobody made a fuss at all.

It took me a while to be able to them in Spanish all the details and then they all freaked out...but that was like 6 months after the incident and by that time I was mostly over it.

So now I'm a paranoid safety freak. I don't go anywhere by myself after dark. Every time I hear footsteps my heart jumps into my throat...which is actually kind of weird because I don't have any actual memory of hearing my attackers approach but it must be deeply ingrained in my subconscious because I am now the jumpiest person alive.

I thank God that I wasn't raped or injured or even killed. But, one thing definitely did take a beating-my faith in the humanity. To this day it's still in recovery and I'm not sure that it will ever fully recuperate.

We're Cranky

Day 6:

I look so creepy in this picture! I'm too tired to put anything better together so all you get is the typical in the mirror ego shot. I just wanted to get my picture for the day uploaded quick before I go to bed. My husband fell asleep early because he was too cranky so I'm going to join him now. Look at this photo...tell me if that isn't a face only a wife could love?

Coming soon: The much anticipated tale of how I was mugged on day #5 of my study abroad trip to Chile.

Futbol Greats, 4, Least Respected Team In the World 2

Day 5:

This is me with a balloon before the U.S. v. Brazil soccer game at Ruby Tuesdays (sometimes I need a taste of home...even if it's over-processed almost fast food). I was smiling because I just knew my team was going to win. We didn't. We lost 4-2, but for some reason I'm not sad. Futbol (soccer), is one of my top three passions in life. It ranks right up there with my husband and photography...actually probably surpassing them both (JK, mi amor!). Nothing gets me more riled up than when the U.S. plays a high quality futbol match (although the Chilean team is quite likely to light a fire under my butt as well).

Today nobody expected the U.S. to win (except for me, because I'm always down with false hope!) but we played a spectacular game. The U.S. actually was the first one to put the ball in the back of the net and I couldn't believe it! They scored off of a corner kick and I went nuts! Jumping up and down and screaming like a mad woman, you would've thought I'd just discovered that somebody built a pool filled with chocolate pudding in my backyard. I'm pretty sure I scared our roommates too, they still haven't come out of their room.

Anyways, Brazil was pretty quick to even the score and then go ahead, but the U.S. team never stopped playing to win. In a game against one of the greatest teams in the history of the sport, when you are playing against a player who is currently ranked #1 in the world (Kaka) and a player who has quite possibly the most amazing Nike commercial ever made and is also a two time FIFA player of the year (Ronaldinho), it's easy to focus way too much on defense and just sit back and let them bombard you. The U.S. really made me proud the way they didn't let themselves be intimidated.

I love when the U.S. plays well because it gives me a reason to talk and brag about my country. With the Bush government I've had more reasons to pretend I'm from Canada. Futbol is a language Chileans understand and respect. When I tell them, we scored first on Brazil, that is something I know they will tip their hats to and I love that. If I say I'm so sad that we lost and that if it weren't for a few calls that didn't go our way we could have managed a tie or even a win, they'll have a whole lot more sympathy for my country than if I tell them I'm sad that U.S. soldiers are being killed in Iraq.

And even if nobody is sympathetic you can still find a common ground by making fun of the Brazilian's playing names. Kaka is pronounced like kah-kah (Spanish word for sh**) and they have another guy named Elano which is pronounced, El Ah-no (Spanish for the anus). Seriously, they make it too easy.

Better Late Than Never

I love my husband so much! I'm never mad at him because he's the best husband ever!

That's per my husband's request :) He doesn't like that I wrote about being mad at him the other day. Sorry dude, sometimes I just have to get it out of my system. And if you're not here for me to knock around like a punching bag when I get pissed, and it's too dark to go running, I must write. Admittedly, writing is not my preferred method of taking out my frustration but it will do in a pinch.

Day 4: I didn't upload my picture from yesterday because on the weekends I try to actually get off the computer and live a real life. I have two jobs working online during the week. So I like to try and get out from behind the glow of the screen as much as I can. So here is my photo from Saturday...and it's extra special because it's from the first set of pictures ever taken in my new photography studio!

Neither photo is very flattering. We were just testing out the new lighting set-up that we got, hence the lack of makeup on my part and cheesy poses on S.'s part. Still, it's really exciting for me to see these pictures and realize I'm one step closer to realizing my dream of being able to make a living doing photography full-time!

Welcome

Welcome Lost Girls afficionados!

I had the honor of being a featured blogger on the Lost Girls blog, the best all around travel guide out there! So I know a lot of you new visitors are coming on over from their link to me...welcome! I hope you hang out a while and enjoy your stay :) If you want to check out a few posts but don't want to browse the archives, here are a few of my personal favorites: Welcome to a glimpse of my life in Chile!


Disco Queen
What's YOUR Workout Like?
Riding the Metro While Black

Thanks for visiting!

Seeing Red

Day 3:

I had a lot of fun stuff I was going to write about today. Like how I went on my run and a giant stray dog followed me the whole way. At first I was scared, but then I realized he was just out for a jog with me...and he actually growled at passer-byers who came too close. I felt safe and protected with my canine friend. I was going to write about how I couldn't believe it when an old lady lost her balance on the stairs of the metro and dropped the whole basket of baked goods she was carrying...and nobody stopped to help. Like water flowing past a rock in a river, people just moved right on by as if she weren't even there. And when I first started helping her pick up her stuff she looked at me with such alarm. I think she was convinced that I was going to rob her.

My original plan was to talk about the time I was mugged.

But I just don't have it in me to be descriptive or funny today. It's one of those days.

Damn husband.

Me, My Face and I

Day 2:

I know I'm uploading a little late, but I did take the picture on Day 2.

Today I went on a long walk. It should have been a run but yesterday I increased the reps in my circuit training that I do...and today I'm paying the price. It hurts to move and sneezing is the WORST! So like the good liked exerciser I am, rather than take a day off I just decided to power walk. Sure, it looks stupid, but it feels good. Today was such a gorgeous day, it finally started to feel like spring (we're nearing the end of Chile's wintertime right now). I was enjoying myself so much that I ended up walking much longer than I had planned on and by the time I headed back it was starting to get dark. I've definitely talked about this before, but I do not live in the best neighborhood. So as soon as I realized the shadows were starting to get longer I picked up the pace. The park I work out in, in and of itself, isn't dangerous as long as I stay out of isolated nooks and crannies. But the surrounding area is less than idyllic. To get home I have to walk past government project housing. As soon as I pass the projects though, I'm on the home stretch, where the biggest threats are catcalls from stupid mechanics. The area that I live in isn't really scary, it's just very dark at night. Until recently there wasn't a single working streetlight within a few blocks of my house. It was pitch black. I used to feel like Helen Keller walking home (with my husband, never alone) from the metro station at night because you couldn't see a thing.

But supposedly my neighborhood is going residential within the next couple of years. And unlike most government promises, I've actually seen proof of this one! I realized that today at the end of my walk. When I finally got onto the home stretch I figured I was good to go because from any point on the street I was making my home on, I could have sprinted to a safe haven. First off, there's a police station or maybe not a station, but some kind of government building that has policemen hanging out front all the time. From there, I could make it to the Chinese restaurant that Seba and I frequent at least once or twice a month. They know me and love me (I think they feel a common bond since I'm a foreigner too), and they would definitely help me out if I were in a bind. After the Chinese restaurant comes my friend at the botilleria (like a tiny mom and pop convenience store that sells mainly alcohol). The little shop is called "Botilleria Ely." The woman who works there loves me. She's Ely, the namesake of the small business. Yes, I do have friends in high places. Passing the botilleria, I'm almost home and there are only two landmarks left...a bus stop for the new transportation system (Transantiago) that was implemented here this year and a gas station that was built this year as well. The gas station is open 24 hours a day so the giant neon Copec sign illuminates the whole block. And if that weren't good enough, the government construction workers recently put up a ginormous spotlight thing on top of the bus station. Although it doesn't have a roof, so it sucks for people waiting when it rains. Oh well, at least they'll be able to clearly see how wet they're getting now that they have the new streetlight.

I really do feel a lot safer here than I used to, it's nice to have a brighter street. I know too well what scary kinds of people can pop out of the shadows on you if a street is not well-lit (I got mugged on Day #5 of my study abroad experience in Chile).

Yes, my friends, neighborhood Estacion Central is moving up in the world :)

ps. I'm sorry, I really can't stop pimping myself out! But in case you haven't already voted for me, please do it!!! I will love you forever and forever!!!

I'm trying to get a photo and a story published in Jpg Magazine

I have a photograph in the travel photography contest: www.jpgmag.com/photos/221286And 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...trust me, I've been registered with them for ages.

Thank you SO much!

365 Me's In a Year: Day I

I started reading this a blog called Watch Me Turn 30. Holly C. has been taking a picture of herself every day and posting it with a little blurb underneath as well. It's a great blog...she's a good writer and I'm sure it doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous! So I got inspired by her.

A while back, I tried to do the 365 Days Project on Flickr. I failed miserably. On my flickr, I try to keep the pictures I post pretty high quality. But, I just didn't have time to take and post process a high quality photo every day. I really didn't like posting crappy snapshot pictures on a website that clients see so I decided to quit the project even though I had enjoyed doing it. After seeing Holly C. do a version of 365 days on her blog, I decided I'm going to do the same.

By posting the self portraits on my blog, I'll have a little more freedom to post pictures that strike my fancy without worrying about whether clients will see them. And what I like most about this project and doing it on the blog instead of Flickr, is that I will be forced to write every day. Writing for me is a lot like exercise. I LOVE doing it. But sometimes I get into a rut where I don't write, or don't feel inspired. And when I stop it's hard to make myself start again. This way, it will become a habit. Picture and prose everyday, you just can't go wrong ;)

So without further ado, here is Day 1:

I woke up and went outside to snap this, it was super bright out so I tried to find a spot where I could shade my eyes a little bit. Even though technically this photo is all wrong I still like it! I ended up with shadows that make me look like I'm wearing a mask of Zorro...or maybe they just make me look like I had a rough night out on the town and ended up with hangover bags under my eyes. But either way, I think it's a pretty interesting picture.

So this is the start of my project 365. I think it will be fun to look back in a year and see all the changes that I go through. Call me narcissistic, but hey, isn't that what blogging is all about?

When Boobs Aren't Around

When boobs aren't around what do penises talk about?

I have the answer for you...

Their hair! No, seriously. On the last day of our vacation we got together with a group of my husband's friends and their girlfriends. We met up at one of their apartments and as soon as we got there, all the girlfriends decided that they didn't want to sit around. So they headed out to hit up the bars but I stayed behind because I wasn't feeling well. Normally, I'm really talkative and I like hanging out with my hubby and his friends because they're hilarious. We always have a good time bantering back and forth. But, since I felt (and looked) like I had just crawled out of the sewer that the Ninja Turtles lived in, I pretty much stayed quiet all night.

And the funniest thing happened...the guys seemed to forget that I was there. I didn't say a word and I just blended into the couch, I was one with the slipcover. It was my one chance to truly get a glimpse into the male psyche.

Shocker! Men aren't as interesting as you might think. Guys are just as shallow as their female counterparts. They talk about the same frivolous topics as women. My husband and his friend started off the night by first discussing who was balding the fastest and then all proceeded to make fun of the one who was declared least hairy for the next half hour or so.

In that way, men are definitely different. If I was with a group of girlfriends and somebody plucked a gray hair off her head, I'm pretty sure we'd bust out a bottle of wine and a bucket of ice cream to try and drown/eat away our sorrows. I would never ridicule a friend because of a physical defect...to her face at least. JK! I'm not an evil backstabber, but as soon as I wrote that sentence it was just too easy to make a joke.

Anyways, after discussing their (lack of) hair they moved on to women. Now, I don't know about you, but I had always been under the impression that guys aren't too picky about what they like and don't like. Sure, everybody has their preferences. But if a guy is partial to blonds and he sees a brunette with boobs he might think she's cute too, right? Wrong. These guys had such specific likes and dislikes that are just as silly as many of my girlfriends' reasons for dismissing potential love interests. Too pale, weird eyebrows, big feet...the list went on and on as they dissected girls they liked and didn't like.

Then...and here's the kicker....

They GOSSIPPED!!!!

One of my hubby's best bud's just got a girl he had been seeing for less than 3 months pregnant. He's a doctor so he should know better. Anyways, this knocker upper left the apartment to go buy more snacks and drinks and the gossipping began.

They sounded like 15 year girls, I couldn't believe it.

"I heard that she was a virgin when she met him"
"Well, it might be true, she is Opus Dei."
"Ooooh, so she's crazy rich right?"
"And can you believe that they didn't use protection. I mean c'mon, he's supposed to be the smartest one of all of us...he's a doctor!"

Granted, I'm extremely oversimplifying like 5 hours of conversation. They talked about worthwhile topics that actually didn't make me stupider just for having overhead them. Just as me and my girls do when we're flying solo without our men. Topics can range from the shallow (hair, gossip, guys) to interesting and provocative conversations about politics and women's rights or the environment.

So I guess boobs and penises are more alike than we ever thought possible.

Home Sweet Home

Honey, I'm hoooooooome!

Our little vacation was fantastic, it was just what the doctor ordered. We at way too much, slept way too much...I mean basically it was just a giant 7 deadly sins fest.

Gluttony CHECK: We ate massive amounts of home made bread. I even cooked Spaghetti Carbonara one night. Delish!

Lust CHECK: ummm, self explanatory. I don't think you want me to go into details on this one...or maybe you do...perverts!

Sloth CHECK: I do believe we were averaging something like 15 hours of sleep a night. Amazing!

Wrath CHECK: We're not a very harmonious couple. We fight even when we're on vacation. But it somehow works for us.

Pride CHECK: See wrath. When we fight we're both too proud to say sorry first.

Greed CHECK: I bought tons of alfajores (they're like cookie sandwiches, filled with dulce de leche and dipped in chocolate) to bring back to Santiago and eat during the week. Needless to say, I ate them all on the drive home and felt really sick.

Envy: Words can't even explain how much I envy people who live in towns like Algarrobo, with clean air and streets that are safe for jogging.

Algarrobo really is an amazing place. It's a tiny little beach town here in Chile. When you go there you get a good feel for small town living. We had a fire going every night to keep us warm, we would go down to the tiny markets every day and get fresh fruits and vegetables and fresh baked bread to eat. The people are SO friendly. You can walk everywhere. I just love it there.

It was also nice to be able to jog without breathing in 99% smog 1% oxygen. With the ratio reversed I was able to increase my distance by like 15 minutes! And I was probably running faster the whole time too.

That's actually not me jogging in Algarrobo. In that picture my husband took I'm at the Quinta Normal park about two weeks ago. I just posted it because I want to stay motivated to continue jogging and getting back in shape even though I hate running in Santiago. If you want to see pictures of Algarrobo that I took while we were there, there are several up on my other blog, www.lovetotravelchile.com

Anyways, now we're back in Santiago...back to reality. The post vacation let down is always hard to handle but I dealt with it by opening packages that people mailed to me that arrived while we were gone. We got the lighting equipment we had ordered for our new studio that we're building! My mom sent me hand-me down shirts that either don't fit her or she doesn't like, I'm not sure which. She also mailed me Newsweeks from last month. Newsweek is my favorite magazine so I'm thrilled! I'm something of a conundrum. I'm totally and completely obsessed with celebrity gossip and soccer. But I'm just as obsessed with politics and current events. I like to think that makes me well rounded :)

Anyways, another friend sent me 7 cd's of current music. I am SO excited!!!! I don't really care for most of the stuff that they play on Chilean radio so I am always thrilled when people send me new music! And one other person sent me arm warmers...they're black and white striped and they're so cute!!!!

I'm normally not this popular. Usually the only mail we get is from the bank telling us how much we still owe. But for some reason the mailmen was good to me this week...and I love it!

So now that we have returned to the real world I have a few goals I'd like to accomplish this week. 1. Start waking up before noon. Or at least at noon. 2. Finish the studio. 3. Go jogging at least 4 times this week.

The end.