It was a rude awakening indeed last week as the morning after returning from Rio, suitcases yet to be completely unpacked, I had to be awake, alert and at school by 8am to meet DD1's new teacher and hear all about the new challenges facing the children of Year 2 at her (nominally bilingual) Chilean school. The teacher herself was serious and wasted little time in addressing the key issues while also requiring that the assembled parents filled in a questionnaire about their child's strengths and weaknesses which was a taxing but stimulating exercise for my Spanish. The rest of the meeting was taken up by lots of noisy banter in rapid Chilean from the other parents, mainly about whether or not the annual contribution to the parents' social fund should be increased or remain unchanged. It was one of those rare opportunities to see what goes on beyond the school gates as parents are usually very much encouraged to stay away...
The next day DD1 bounded out of bed even before 7 o'clock, so keen was she to return to school and see her friends. Like last year, many parents had turned up both together in elegant attire for the obligatory photo of their adored niño/a beginning a new school year and at least one family was filming the momentous occasion even before registration at 7.45am...
An hour or so later it was DD2's turn to return to her nursery, slightly less enthusiastic than her sister but also curious to meet her new tia and see her new "classroom". She was delighted to see some old faces from last year as well as numbers and letters adorning the walls and a proper whiteboard on one side, feeling very grown up compared to what she calls the "chubby-cheeked children" who have moved up to her former class.
A week and a couple of days on and the novelty of getting up early is beginning to wear off for all of us except DD2 who is glad we're back on her wavelength. It has been hard adjusting to the punishingly early schedule again after our extended summer break but we cannot really complain too much... Meanwhile the first tangible signs of autumn are here with cool mornings, leaves gently beginning to fall and shorter days. Both girls have already come down with their first snuffles of the season... Having said that this is not at all autumn with grey blustery skies; the sun still shines practically every day with occasionally a short-lived fog in the morning and escalating temperatures by afternoon. Clothes for the morning or evening are completely unsuitable by 3pm and the school run, by which time we are wilting in the considerable heat and sweating profusely, bad-tempered from our lack of sleep... Normal life resumes in Santiago. If you can call it normal...
Friday, 16 March 2012
Friday, 9 March 2012
The girl from Ipanema
Last week we celebrated the extra day of leap year by boarding a plane to Rio de Janeiro for a final fling before returning to the rigours of the new school year this week (more about that to follow)...
It was a fabulous trip to what must be one of the world's most naturally beautiful cities. Situated on a sprawling bay overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Rio is a metropolis with protruding hills and palm trees along miles of sweeping, golden beaches...all under the out-stretched embrace of Christ the Redeemer on one side and the imposing Sugar Loaf Mountain on the other. As we left the airport heading into the city we looked up and saw huge dark birds circling and gliding overhead... just one of the signs that we were somewhere new, exciting and exotic.
Exotic is probably a word which sums up Rio rather well, from its landscape, its vegetation, its tropical climate, its scantily-clad inhabitants to its food and cocktails, all of which we encountered at some point during our stay. Due to the Brazilians having already adjusted their clocks (an aspect which wasn't entirely clear to us for the first day and a half), we were in the same time zone as Santiago but suddenly in quite different surroundings and climatic conditions. While Santiago is warm and dry though cool at night, Rio was hot and humid all day long which was rather uncomfortable at first. Also this meant that indoors the air-conditioning was invariably set at full blast therefore also not ideal (a scarf or cardigan was essential extra clothing). Needless to say we tended to prefer the natural environment outdoors and just tried to keep ourselves hydrated as far as possible, although the inevitable traveller's tummy struck its evil blow (fortunately limiting itself to DH and myself, thus sparing us the agony of sick children on holiday). Interestingly there were very few families on the tourist trail but lots of gay and straight couples and also young adults in general.
We managed to strike a reasonable balance by aiming for half a day of sightseeing activities in the morning and spending the rest of the afternoon on the beach. The sand on Ipanema beach was as fine as golden flour, while at the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain it was more like brown sugar. The girls were happy either way, busily digging and burying, shaping and constructing. Meanwhile the water of the Atlantic was turquoise and clean although the waves were often huge and the pull of the undercurrent dangerously strong.
One of the most memorable moments of the trip came as we were finishing lunch in Santa Teresa, a bohemian area on a hill whose cobbled streets and inviting shops, cafes and art galleries wouldn't look out of place in a fashionable part of London. A trio featuring a trombonist, an acoustic guitarist and a pianist began softly playing authentic bossanova which perfectly captured the mood and setting. We managed to linger at our table for long enough to savour the magic while the children attempted to take photos of the musicians until DD2's wriggling and fiddling with the trombonist's microphone became too much and we had to leave the establishment to remove the disturbance... Maybe Rio is more of an adult destination, though the girls loved the train ride up the Corcovado to see the statue of Christ and the cable cars up Sugar Loaf went down very well too. Plus the incredible beaches... An unforgettable and essential part of the South American experience for all of us.
It was a fabulous trip to what must be one of the world's most naturally beautiful cities. Situated on a sprawling bay overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Rio is a metropolis with protruding hills and palm trees along miles of sweeping, golden beaches...all under the out-stretched embrace of Christ the Redeemer on one side and the imposing Sugar Loaf Mountain on the other. As we left the airport heading into the city we looked up and saw huge dark birds circling and gliding overhead... just one of the signs that we were somewhere new, exciting and exotic.
Exotic is probably a word which sums up Rio rather well, from its landscape, its vegetation, its tropical climate, its scantily-clad inhabitants to its food and cocktails, all of which we encountered at some point during our stay. Due to the Brazilians having already adjusted their clocks (an aspect which wasn't entirely clear to us for the first day and a half), we were in the same time zone as Santiago but suddenly in quite different surroundings and climatic conditions. While Santiago is warm and dry though cool at night, Rio was hot and humid all day long which was rather uncomfortable at first. Also this meant that indoors the air-conditioning was invariably set at full blast therefore also not ideal (a scarf or cardigan was essential extra clothing). Needless to say we tended to prefer the natural environment outdoors and just tried to keep ourselves hydrated as far as possible, although the inevitable traveller's tummy struck its evil blow (fortunately limiting itself to DH and myself, thus sparing us the agony of sick children on holiday). Interestingly there were very few families on the tourist trail but lots of gay and straight couples and also young adults in general.
We managed to strike a reasonable balance by aiming for half a day of sightseeing activities in the morning and spending the rest of the afternoon on the beach. The sand on Ipanema beach was as fine as golden flour, while at the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain it was more like brown sugar. The girls were happy either way, busily digging and burying, shaping and constructing. Meanwhile the water of the Atlantic was turquoise and clean although the waves were often huge and the pull of the undercurrent dangerously strong.
One of the most memorable moments of the trip came as we were finishing lunch in Santa Teresa, a bohemian area on a hill whose cobbled streets and inviting shops, cafes and art galleries wouldn't look out of place in a fashionable part of London. A trio featuring a trombonist, an acoustic guitarist and a pianist began softly playing authentic bossanova which perfectly captured the mood and setting. We managed to linger at our table for long enough to savour the magic while the children attempted to take photos of the musicians until DD2's wriggling and fiddling with the trombonist's microphone became too much and we had to leave the establishment to remove the disturbance... Maybe Rio is more of an adult destination, though the girls loved the train ride up the Corcovado to see the statue of Christ and the cable cars up Sugar Loaf went down very well too. Plus the incredible beaches... An unforgettable and essential part of the South American experience for all of us.
Monday, 20 February 2012
On the waterfront
Finally DH is officially prevented from going to work due to the annual closure of the university so our summer holiday proper may commence... and not before time.
Our first foray out of Santiago last week was to the much-lauded Region of the Lakes in the south of the country, beyond the forests of monkey-puzzle trees and meandering rivers but just preceding Patagonia. Every Chilean raves about the lakes, the south in general and we had only heard good things about it. Thus we flew to Puerto Montt then immediately drove in a hired car to Puerto Varas, a pleasant and useful place to base oneself right on the edge of the majestic Lago Llanquihue. From our window we could enjoy unobstructed views of the immense lake, its pebbly beaches and most dramatically of all, the snow-capped, almost perfectly conical Volcano Osorno on the horizon. That would probably have been enough to please many but there was much more to be discovered...
A short drive west led to the picturesque town of Frutillar, immaculately preserved as the first German settlers constructed it with wooden houses, neatly trimmed rosebushes and perfect window boxes providing a chocolate-box image of a lakeside resort. Again however the volcano was the prime attraction, looming largely over the still water and dominating the pretty but slightly artificial town with its natural beauty. Venturing further north still, we encountered Puerto Octay, a quiet but more real fishing village set on a natural peninsula which provided a secluded and beautiful beach on which to set up camp for a morning, search for stones and watch the fishermen (trying not to disturb them of course).
The second leg of our trip involved driving towards the Argentine border beyond paved roads for a considerable distance to Petrohue', situated on one side of the truly spectacular Lago Todos Los Santos. It was a shimmering green lake practically at the foot of the omnipresent volcano, whose last eruption provided much of the black rubble surrounding the shore. Hugely atmospheric setting, clouded only by coachloads and campervans of tourists eager to enjoy the natural panorama in Chile's most-visited national park. Definitely to be seen out of season... Our lodge at Petrohue' was comfortable and had nice touches such as inviting sofas around open fireplaces although it was run by a group of young people who evidently hadn't made a great deal of provision for families. Not their fault of course as it was a hiker's paradise. In fact when the rain came and didn't stop for the last day and a half of our stay, plenty of technical waterproofs were in evidence from the more intrepid outdoors folk who had planned for every eventuality. The girls were delighted to wear their raincoats which had otherwise been gathering dust since our arrival in Chile and I must confess to enjoying seeing rain again after months and months. However waterproofs and trainers are not my ideal exclusive holiday equipment and by the second day of incessant rain the novelty was rapidly wearing off. It was fun for a while but we were all glad to be back in the summer of February in Santiago, where we were able to peel off the layers on arrival, putting the raincoats away and reacclimatising to natural heat again...
Our first foray out of Santiago last week was to the much-lauded Region of the Lakes in the south of the country, beyond the forests of monkey-puzzle trees and meandering rivers but just preceding Patagonia. Every Chilean raves about the lakes, the south in general and we had only heard good things about it. Thus we flew to Puerto Montt then immediately drove in a hired car to Puerto Varas, a pleasant and useful place to base oneself right on the edge of the majestic Lago Llanquihue. From our window we could enjoy unobstructed views of the immense lake, its pebbly beaches and most dramatically of all, the snow-capped, almost perfectly conical Volcano Osorno on the horizon. That would probably have been enough to please many but there was much more to be discovered...
A short drive west led to the picturesque town of Frutillar, immaculately preserved as the first German settlers constructed it with wooden houses, neatly trimmed rosebushes and perfect window boxes providing a chocolate-box image of a lakeside resort. Again however the volcano was the prime attraction, looming largely over the still water and dominating the pretty but slightly artificial town with its natural beauty. Venturing further north still, we encountered Puerto Octay, a quiet but more real fishing village set on a natural peninsula which provided a secluded and beautiful beach on which to set up camp for a morning, search for stones and watch the fishermen (trying not to disturb them of course).
The second leg of our trip involved driving towards the Argentine border beyond paved roads for a considerable distance to Petrohue', situated on one side of the truly spectacular Lago Todos Los Santos. It was a shimmering green lake practically at the foot of the omnipresent volcano, whose last eruption provided much of the black rubble surrounding the shore. Hugely atmospheric setting, clouded only by coachloads and campervans of tourists eager to enjoy the natural panorama in Chile's most-visited national park. Definitely to be seen out of season... Our lodge at Petrohue' was comfortable and had nice touches such as inviting sofas around open fireplaces although it was run by a group of young people who evidently hadn't made a great deal of provision for families. Not their fault of course as it was a hiker's paradise. In fact when the rain came and didn't stop for the last day and a half of our stay, plenty of technical waterproofs were in evidence from the more intrepid outdoors folk who had planned for every eventuality. The girls were delighted to wear their raincoats which had otherwise been gathering dust since our arrival in Chile and I must confess to enjoying seeing rain again after months and months. However waterproofs and trainers are not my ideal exclusive holiday equipment and by the second day of incessant rain the novelty was rapidly wearing off. It was fun for a while but we were all glad to be back in the summer of February in Santiago, where we were able to peel off the layers on arrival, putting the raincoats away and reacclimatising to natural heat again...
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
Stand by your man
One month of the holidays left until school reopens and we aren't actually doing too badly. The girls are enjoying the long epicurean days and it must be said so am I. I am pleasantly surprised at how well they are playing together although plenty of fighting goes on too...often about toys or dolls' clothes. It's definitely been a bonding period as Santiago slows down and empties for the summer while school and nursery seem like a distant memory.
Last week we were invited to DH's department's end-of-year party, an event held in the university grounds for academic staff and students alike-- plus entourage such as ourselves. The students had gone to a great deal of trouble, not just by setting up and decorating stalls and even a barbecue serving choripan (sausage in a bread roll) and anticuchos (brochettes) amongst other delights but also by erecting a sophisticated sound system with amplifiers and at least two lap-tops providing the soundtrack of non-stop music tailored for a range of tastes and age-groups. Spirits were high, wine and beer flowed and the atmosphere was generally good despite some minor scuffles marring the end. The children amused themselves, especially by exploring the grounds while some of us indulged in some uninterrupted adult conversation. Inevitably I was asked about how I had settled in to life in Chile, what my impressions were and whether or not I was working at the moment...probably about a dozen times. Needless to say my answers became more expansive and less guarded as the Sauvignon Blanc went down...
Which brings me on to an issue I have been wanting to address for a while but haven't yet found the right moment, namely that of the Trailing Spouse. At first it was a novelty and of course a privilege, not to have to work and following one's husband around the world while also busily taking care of domestic matters and the lion's share of the childcare. Isn't that what all women did once, I wonder to myself, and many still do even in our so-called most developed cultures, at least for a few years while the children are small. Not so in Chile, where I and others like me are the exception and very much the minority. I hardly ever see Chilean mothers with their children here during the day apart from at weekends; usually families employ the ubiquitous and strictly apron-clad figure of the Nana, a robust all-encompassing home-help whose tasks may comprise anything within the home but also include looking after their patrons' children. I suppose their "mistresses" haven't had to up sticks and move to the other side of the world but still it's food for thought as I am surrounded by an army of apron-wearing women in parks, around the pool and in the communal gardens, some of whom I can't help feeling probably don't care much for the spoilt brat(s) in their charge but who will put up with anything for 10,000 Chilean pesos (approximately US$20) for an entire day's work... As for us Trailing Spouses, we do feel a bit isolated at times but of course have to look at the positives such as travelling to a new country/continent/hemisphere, learning a new language, spending time with one's children and thinking about going back to work...
Last week we were invited to DH's department's end-of-year party, an event held in the university grounds for academic staff and students alike-- plus entourage such as ourselves. The students had gone to a great deal of trouble, not just by setting up and decorating stalls and even a barbecue serving choripan (sausage in a bread roll) and anticuchos (brochettes) amongst other delights but also by erecting a sophisticated sound system with amplifiers and at least two lap-tops providing the soundtrack of non-stop music tailored for a range of tastes and age-groups. Spirits were high, wine and beer flowed and the atmosphere was generally good despite some minor scuffles marring the end. The children amused themselves, especially by exploring the grounds while some of us indulged in some uninterrupted adult conversation. Inevitably I was asked about how I had settled in to life in Chile, what my impressions were and whether or not I was working at the moment...probably about a dozen times. Needless to say my answers became more expansive and less guarded as the Sauvignon Blanc went down...
Which brings me on to an issue I have been wanting to address for a while but haven't yet found the right moment, namely that of the Trailing Spouse. At first it was a novelty and of course a privilege, not to have to work and following one's husband around the world while also busily taking care of domestic matters and the lion's share of the childcare. Isn't that what all women did once, I wonder to myself, and many still do even in our so-called most developed cultures, at least for a few years while the children are small. Not so in Chile, where I and others like me are the exception and very much the minority. I hardly ever see Chilean mothers with their children here during the day apart from at weekends; usually families employ the ubiquitous and strictly apron-clad figure of the Nana, a robust all-encompassing home-help whose tasks may comprise anything within the home but also include looking after their patrons' children. I suppose their "mistresses" haven't had to up sticks and move to the other side of the world but still it's food for thought as I am surrounded by an army of apron-wearing women in parks, around the pool and in the communal gardens, some of whom I can't help feeling probably don't care much for the spoilt brat(s) in their charge but who will put up with anything for 10,000 Chilean pesos (approximately US$20) for an entire day's work... As for us Trailing Spouses, we do feel a bit isolated at times but of course have to look at the positives such as travelling to a new country/continent/hemisphere, learning a new language, spending time with one's children and thinking about going back to work...
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Weekend at the beach
It has to be said that a rather wonderful aspect of living in Chile is the possibility of taking off for the beach for a weekend in January. Of course January here is the meteorological equivalent of July in the northern hemisphere, thus you begin to imagine the crowds, the difficulty in finding suitable accommodation, not to mention the traffic on the motorway... However, undeterred, we booked ahead and set off bright and early on Saturday morning for our chosen destination of Quintay, a picturesque and largely unspoilt fishing village with a tiny bay frequented only by fishermen, divers, the odd adventurous (or foolhardy) family and lots of seagulls. It was dull and overcast when we arrived, almost reminiscent of the English seaside were it not for the dramatic landscape, including valleys of fertile vineyards one passed en route to the almost vertical slope we had to walk down (and later up again) to get to the sheltered cove at Quintay itself. After a quick wander around the miniscule beach (dodging the stray dogs) we headed for a hearty fisherman's portion of fish and chips, Chilean-style (no batter, enormous quantities) and very good it was too. As we were settling the bill and ready to reach for the buckets and spades, DD2 announced she didn't like beaches after all, which was rather a bad omen for the two days we had planned of exactly that...
We attempted to begin to digest our lunch by visiting the ex-whaling station, now a vacant, shell of a museum mainly containing black and white photos testifying to its somewhat unfathomable past incarnation. As so often happens in Chile, the sun suddenly emerged from behind an apparently impenetrable layer of cloud to produce an absolute scorcher of an afternoon, thus we hurried to Playa Grande, a nearby stretch of golden sand which became more and more full of holidaymakers as the day went on... We had only just remarked on how peaceful it was when at around 4pm a sound system was plugged in and a DJ began blasting what can only be described as beach house music to a not completely gratified public...
By evening we were too happy and tired to care much that our cabaña, while recommended in two of our guidebooks, had in fact been a disappointment in terms of cleanliness and hygiene which may have been why some of us didn't have the best night's sleep...
The next day we set off further down the coast for Isla Negra, not an island but a locality so-called for its clump of dark granite rocks along the beach and also home to one of Pablo Neruda's houses, now a museum of the poet's eccentric and extravagant personal items collected from his travels around the world. Unfortunately choosing to visit Neruda's house in Isla Negra on a Sunday in January was a little like choosing to visit Shakespeare's birthplace on a Sunday in the summer months, that is to be avoided at all costs due to hordes of people, long queues and the selling out of tickets... Never mind we thought, a great excuse to go back to visit this little gem at another time of year. Instead we made straight for the beach which was beautiful and very atmospheric although made up of fine pebbles therefore not as interesting for more advanced construction purposes. However we still managed to keep busy for an entire day, making stone soup and tea amongst other delights and contemplating the ocean, whose icy water we paddled in but could not swim in. Clearly Chileans are made of sterner stuff than some of us...
We attempted to begin to digest our lunch by visiting the ex-whaling station, now a vacant, shell of a museum mainly containing black and white photos testifying to its somewhat unfathomable past incarnation. As so often happens in Chile, the sun suddenly emerged from behind an apparently impenetrable layer of cloud to produce an absolute scorcher of an afternoon, thus we hurried to Playa Grande, a nearby stretch of golden sand which became more and more full of holidaymakers as the day went on... We had only just remarked on how peaceful it was when at around 4pm a sound system was plugged in and a DJ began blasting what can only be described as beach house music to a not completely gratified public...
By evening we were too happy and tired to care much that our cabaña, while recommended in two of our guidebooks, had in fact been a disappointment in terms of cleanliness and hygiene which may have been why some of us didn't have the best night's sleep...
The next day we set off further down the coast for Isla Negra, not an island but a locality so-called for its clump of dark granite rocks along the beach and also home to one of Pablo Neruda's houses, now a museum of the poet's eccentric and extravagant personal items collected from his travels around the world. Unfortunately choosing to visit Neruda's house in Isla Negra on a Sunday in January was a little like choosing to visit Shakespeare's birthplace on a Sunday in the summer months, that is to be avoided at all costs due to hordes of people, long queues and the selling out of tickets... Never mind we thought, a great excuse to go back to visit this little gem at another time of year. Instead we made straight for the beach which was beautiful and very atmospheric although made up of fine pebbles therefore not as interesting for more advanced construction purposes. However we still managed to keep busy for an entire day, making stone soup and tea amongst other delights and contemplating the ocean, whose icy water we paddled in but could not swim in. Clearly Chileans are made of sterner stuff than some of us...
Saturday, 14 January 2012
Strangers in the night
Well the Befana came, bearing Italian chocolates and Chilean sweets, followed hot on her heels two days later by the Tooth Fairy who left the princely sum of one hundred pesos for DD1's first baby tooth to fall out... Let's hope that's it for a while as we've certainly had our fair share of nocturnal visitors recently, what with the jolly chap in the red coat, his elves and various other creatures of fantasy (who will soon be losing their mythical status if this constant march is to be sustained any longer...)
Meanwhile it's January in Santiago, warm and sunny though slightly cooler than the heatwave we experienced over the festive period. We have established a kind of rhythm which consists of plenty of visits to the park, lots of bike rides and even more dips in the pool... Only another month until DH is on holiday then we shall be free to take off for another adventure.
Not that there aren't things to do in the city. This week on an energetic whim I managed to take the girls on the metro to visit the excellent Picasso exhibition in town which made a pleasant change from the calm though dull suburbs. They have since been inspired to redouble their efforts artistically and we now have moulded and painted our own garden, decorated fairies and butterflies and painted works which even Picasso may have been interested to see with his notions of the perspective of the child as artist...
Meanwhile it's January in Santiago, warm and sunny though slightly cooler than the heatwave we experienced over the festive period. We have established a kind of rhythm which consists of plenty of visits to the park, lots of bike rides and even more dips in the pool... Only another month until DH is on holiday then we shall be free to take off for another adventure.
Not that there aren't things to do in the city. This week on an energetic whim I managed to take the girls on the metro to visit the excellent Picasso exhibition in town which made a pleasant change from the calm though dull suburbs. They have since been inspired to redouble their efforts artistically and we now have moulded and painted our own garden, decorated fairies and butterflies and painted works which even Picasso may have been interested to see with his notions of the perspective of the child as artist...
Friday, 6 January 2012
Twelfth Night
It was not without some sadness but also with a good deal of relief that we dismantled our eco-tree today and put away our Christmas decorations in readiness for perhaps a proper winter celebration next year. Despite our best efforts it hasn't really seemed like Christmas this year either though Loving Grandmother's presence certainly added to the mood and helped us to feel it was a special time of year. The children were delighted with their stockings and various bits and pieces, enjoying in particular the swimming on Christmas Day and around, although DD1 surprised me more than once by saying that for her too it didn't seem like Christmas without the cold. It all seemed to be over in a trice as there were no extra bank holidays in lieu and the working week commenced again on Monday 26 December.
New Year's Eve was an interesting moment of cultural confusion as we took advantage of LG's babysitting potential and headed out, DH and I, to sample and savour the last night of the year in Chile's capital city. No-one had told us (nor had we asked) that the centre of the city was officially closed until after midnight on New Year's Day, thus we wandered around forlornly from barrio to barrio, being glared at by mean-looking carabiñeros for a worrying while in eerily quiet streets, searching for signs of life and anywhere serving even a glass of wine. Eventually we realised what was going on (seeing only disappointed tourists in a similar situation) and headed for the more "civilised" outskirts of the city where we eventually found hotels defying (or exempt from) the evening curfew and settled down for a four-course meal surrounded by rich and/or fat fellow diners. By eleven thirty we had finished and were stuffed to the gills, ready to take to the streets and begin saluting our fellow Santiaguinos... The streets were still desolate, completely deserted and Santiago had never been as empty. We began our long walk home, passing the midnight mark en route which was atmospheric for the lack of traffic, people and dogs for once... It felt like a metaphor for our existence here, DH and I alone in an alien world, always against the tide but together in a strange country, continent, hemisphere and culture...
So it is 2012 and a new year thus a time of renewed hope and optimism. Here in Chile the economic recession is not really an issue although there is a huge discrepancy in how people live hence a constant feeling of dissatisfaction for those of us used to a more even society. However one can only hope their turn will come too...
Meanwhile LG's departure has been softened by two exciting prospects: DD1's first wobbly tooth plus the potential arrival of La Befana, Italy's equivalent of the Three Wise Men who travels around the world on Twelfth Night, bringing sweets to good children and lumps of coal to the bad...
New Year's Eve was an interesting moment of cultural confusion as we took advantage of LG's babysitting potential and headed out, DH and I, to sample and savour the last night of the year in Chile's capital city. No-one had told us (nor had we asked) that the centre of the city was officially closed until after midnight on New Year's Day, thus we wandered around forlornly from barrio to barrio, being glared at by mean-looking carabiñeros for a worrying while in eerily quiet streets, searching for signs of life and anywhere serving even a glass of wine. Eventually we realised what was going on (seeing only disappointed tourists in a similar situation) and headed for the more "civilised" outskirts of the city where we eventually found hotels defying (or exempt from) the evening curfew and settled down for a four-course meal surrounded by rich and/or fat fellow diners. By eleven thirty we had finished and were stuffed to the gills, ready to take to the streets and begin saluting our fellow Santiaguinos... The streets were still desolate, completely deserted and Santiago had never been as empty. We began our long walk home, passing the midnight mark en route which was atmospheric for the lack of traffic, people and dogs for once... It felt like a metaphor for our existence here, DH and I alone in an alien world, always against the tide but together in a strange country, continent, hemisphere and culture...
So it is 2012 and a new year thus a time of renewed hope and optimism. Here in Chile the economic recession is not really an issue although there is a huge discrepancy in how people live hence a constant feeling of dissatisfaction for those of us used to a more even society. However one can only hope their turn will come too...
Meanwhile LG's departure has been softened by two exciting prospects: DD1's first wobbly tooth plus the potential arrival of La Befana, Italy's equivalent of the Three Wise Men who travels around the world on Twelfth Night, bringing sweets to good children and lumps of coal to the bad...
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