Tonight's post is on food, because I love food and so should you.
Seriously though, the food here is amazing. Chilean food doesn't rely on a lot of spices, so by our standards it is fairly plain -- but all of the ingredients are SO fresh, it all tastes a thousand times better than what we have in the US. Nothing needs to be coated in spices. I am going to be so spoiled by the time I get home!
During orientation we mostly eat at restaurants. Our first night, we ate at a ridiculously fancy restaurant. One of the CIEE staff, Alejandra, suggested that we climb the stairs up to the restaurant. "It's only on the 16th floor," she said. Some of us thought she was joking; some of us only heard the "seis" in "diez y seis". Some of us didn't hear anything at all and just climbed the stairs with the rest of the group. Whatever the excuse was, Alejandra wasn't kidding. It really was on the 16th floor, and we really did climb the stairs. Not all of us, mind -- just those of us crazy enough to agree with her. We felt we were more deserving of dinner than anyone else, and we told them so.
The dinner at this place was amazing, to say the least. I won't spell it all out, because it would take up the whole page on its own (believe me, I checked) and I don't want to bore you. Suffice to say, it was a full 5 course meal stuffed with deliciousness.
Last night, Rosita and I ate with Brooke and Patti downstairs. Patti made salmon, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables. I was really impressed by the potatoes, of all things! I am not sure what she put in them, but they were spicy and creamy and all kinds of delicious. I would like to ask her at some point, to see if I can replicate it.
When Rosita and I were at the grocery store this afternoon, she bought me something called manjar, which needs to become available immediately at every supermarket in the United States. Seriously, can we get a petition going? Manjar is like a yummier version of caramel, the liquidy kind people put on ice cream. You can put manjar on bread, crackers, ice cream, apples, or just spoon it out of the jar like I do. I have every intention of filling my checked bag with manjar when I come home. Because who needs clothing when you could sit around in your underwear eating manjar?
Important Note
I don't actually sit around in my underwear eating manjar.
But trust me.
It's hot enough in the apartment that I think I could get away with it.
On a completely different note, I'm pretty sure my host mama thinks I'm crazy. She's convinced I don't eat enough. This morning, I had toast with quesilla, and then enjoyed a huge lunch with the rest of the CIEE group. After I got home, I ate a power bar leftover from my plane ride. When Rosita came home around 6:30, she was hungry and so sat down to eat dinner (she had forgotten her lunch, and so hadn't eaten all day). She asked if I wanted anything.
"No, thanks, I'm not hungry right now."
"....are you sure?"
"Yup, I'm sure!"
"Here, I brought out a plate of grapes for you. You eat these while I eat my pollo."
Around 9:30 this evening, I still hadn't eaten dinner (except for the grapes and some manjar-laden crackers).
"You haven't eaten anything yet!"
"Yeah, I'm just not that hungry tonight, I've had a lot of snacks to eat."
"Well do you want to eat now?"
"Nope, I'm ok!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm good, thank you!"
She turned to leave, and then came back half a second later, still looking concerned.
"You're positive you don't want anything?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You know you can eat whenever you want, whenever you are hungry eat something! The kitchen is all yours!"
"Yes, I know! Thank you, I will take advantage of that."
"Are you sure you don't want something else to eat?"
I sometimes fear that my eating habits are going to worry her to death.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Encantado
It's time for a brief update of the past few days before I go to sleep! All of this cultural assimilation stuff is tiring! I mean, I am expected to sit in a room and listen to orientation information, and spend time with some awesome people, and then eat lots of delicious food, and then repeat it all over again. Life is hard, guys.
The plane trip was fairly uneventful. I sat next to a lovely German couple who shared their stories and their candy with me -- it was a pretty excellent setup. I made it through immigration, baggage, and I could see the light at the end of the customs tunnel when I was dragged back into the abyss by an orange that I had forgotten to declare. It turned out fine -- the people at the airport were very friendly. 20 minutes later, I signed a bunch of forms certifying that I was a forgetful student and not, in fact, an agricultural terrorist, and I was good to go.
It's been a bit of a whirlwind, I am not really sure how time has passed so quickly! It helps that each meal generally takes at least an hour and a half, if not longer. Part of it is how large our group is, and part of it is just the culture. It has taken getting used to, and sometimes we get a little frustrated by the pace, but I think by the end of this trip I will come to enjoy it (especially once my Spanish has improved and I can keep a conversation going for the whole meal).
This afternoon, I met my host mom, Rosita! I got off to a bit of a rough start -- to begin with, I had just had to struggle off of the tiny elevator with my bags, and was trying to haul my way across the crowded lobby when I heard someone call "Rebecca!" Given that I was standing next to another Rebecca, confusion ensued. On top of being confused and unprepared, I was terribly nervous. I assumed that my new mama would say something to the effect of "pleased to meet you," and my plan was to imitate that and then clam up until I could work out another clever sentence to say.
So Rosita walked up to me, warmly kissed me on the cheek, and exclaimed "bienvenidos!" to which I replied, "bienvenidos!" You guys, bienvenidos means "welcome". Facepalm. I promise I speak Spanish.
Really, though, Rosita is an absolute sweetheart. She lives alone in a lovely apartment -- she has a son, who in turn has two young children, but she says while they visit sometimes, it is not all that often. Her very close friend Patti lives three floors down, and is hosting another student, Brooke. Rosita doesn't cook much, but Patti does -- I am hoping to maybe pick up some new recipes while I am here! I would also like to cook something for Rosita sometime, maybe as a "welcome home from work" surprise or something.
Well, I think I have rambled enough for the night -- I may or may not read through this tomorrow morning and edit half of it out. But for now I'll leave it be, and go to bed! Tomorrow, we tackle public transportation! Get ready, Santiago.
The plane trip was fairly uneventful. I sat next to a lovely German couple who shared their stories and their candy with me -- it was a pretty excellent setup. I made it through immigration, baggage, and I could see the light at the end of the customs tunnel when I was dragged back into the abyss by an orange that I had forgotten to declare. It turned out fine -- the people at the airport were very friendly. 20 minutes later, I signed a bunch of forms certifying that I was a forgetful student and not, in fact, an agricultural terrorist, and I was good to go.
It's been a bit of a whirlwind, I am not really sure how time has passed so quickly! It helps that each meal generally takes at least an hour and a half, if not longer. Part of it is how large our group is, and part of it is just the culture. It has taken getting used to, and sometimes we get a little frustrated by the pace, but I think by the end of this trip I will come to enjoy it (especially once my Spanish has improved and I can keep a conversation going for the whole meal).
This afternoon, I met my host mom, Rosita! I got off to a bit of a rough start -- to begin with, I had just had to struggle off of the tiny elevator with my bags, and was trying to haul my way across the crowded lobby when I heard someone call "Rebecca!" Given that I was standing next to another Rebecca, confusion ensued. On top of being confused and unprepared, I was terribly nervous. I assumed that my new mama would say something to the effect of "pleased to meet you," and my plan was to imitate that and then clam up until I could work out another clever sentence to say.
So Rosita walked up to me, warmly kissed me on the cheek, and exclaimed "bienvenidos!" to which I replied, "bienvenidos!" You guys, bienvenidos means "welcome". Facepalm. I promise I speak Spanish.
Really, though, Rosita is an absolute sweetheart. She lives alone in a lovely apartment -- she has a son, who in turn has two young children, but she says while they visit sometimes, it is not all that often. Her very close friend Patti lives three floors down, and is hosting another student, Brooke. Rosita doesn't cook much, but Patti does -- I am hoping to maybe pick up some new recipes while I am here! I would also like to cook something for Rosita sometime, maybe as a "welcome home from work" surprise or something.
Well, I think I have rambled enough for the night -- I may or may not read through this tomorrow morning and edit half of it out. But for now I'll leave it be, and go to bed! Tomorrow, we tackle public transportation! Get ready, Santiago.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
The World Ahead
All of my favourite books are about Adventure.
"To die would be an awfully big adventure."
"Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."
"'No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: 'explanations take such a dreadful time.'"
"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging."
Adventures are exciting -- that's why they make such excellent stories! But now, as I find myself on the brink of my own adventure, I find myself feeling more akin to Bilbo Baggins than to Peter Pan. I leave tomorrow at precisely 1:02 in the afternoon, and already my stomach is twisting into knots. I've lost count how many times in the past several hours I've second guessed myself, wondering if I've gotten myself in too deep. Why did I choose a program that is known to be more difficult? Why did I choose a country where people say it will take up to a month to properly understand what people are saying? What if people stare at me? What if I forget all of the Spanish I ever knew as soon as I arrive? What if I get lost? What if I miss my flight? What if I can't get credit for my classes? What if I fail? What if I'm too shy? What if I don't have what it takes?
In my head, I know I'm being silly. I know I'm going to have a wonderful time, and it will probably be one of the greatest decisions I've ever made -- I've heard so many stories about how wonderful study abroad is, and I have no doubt that I will have a wonderful time. But just now, on the brink of leaving, I can't help but fret about all kinds of things that I can't change. It's in my nature -- I worry a lot, especially about the kinds of things that I can't change.
It's also hard to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. I avoid even saying goodbye -- I'll say "see you later," "talk to you later," "goodnight!", anything to avoid saying goodbye, because there is just something so final about goodbye. If I tell everyone "I'll talk with you soon," I can pretend that it really will be as easy as a quick phone call. In Chile, I won't be able to conveniently talk with my friends and family at home, and that's hard to come to terms with. I'm just going to hold onto the hope that some of them check their emails as obsessively as I do (I may or may not have my email pulled up in another tab right now).
When all is said and done, though, I know I'll be all right. I'm going to Chile! Seriously, how cool is that? My bags are all packed -- I run no risk of leaving the house without my pocket handkerchief (or whatever the equivalent of that would be -- pocket tissues?) It's time to tuck The Hobbit into my back pocket and face south.
In a house in the south, there lived a girl...
"To die would be an awfully big adventure."
"Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."
"'No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: 'explanations take such a dreadful time.'"
"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging."
Adventures are exciting -- that's why they make such excellent stories! But now, as I find myself on the brink of my own adventure, I find myself feeling more akin to Bilbo Baggins than to Peter Pan. I leave tomorrow at precisely 1:02 in the afternoon, and already my stomach is twisting into knots. I've lost count how many times in the past several hours I've second guessed myself, wondering if I've gotten myself in too deep. Why did I choose a program that is known to be more difficult? Why did I choose a country where people say it will take up to a month to properly understand what people are saying? What if people stare at me? What if I forget all of the Spanish I ever knew as soon as I arrive? What if I get lost? What if I miss my flight? What if I can't get credit for my classes? What if I fail? What if I'm too shy? What if I don't have what it takes?
In my head, I know I'm being silly. I know I'm going to have a wonderful time, and it will probably be one of the greatest decisions I've ever made -- I've heard so many stories about how wonderful study abroad is, and I have no doubt that I will have a wonderful time. But just now, on the brink of leaving, I can't help but fret about all kinds of things that I can't change. It's in my nature -- I worry a lot, especially about the kinds of things that I can't change.
It's also hard to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. I avoid even saying goodbye -- I'll say "see you later," "talk to you later," "goodnight!", anything to avoid saying goodbye, because there is just something so final about goodbye. If I tell everyone "I'll talk with you soon," I can pretend that it really will be as easy as a quick phone call. In Chile, I won't be able to conveniently talk with my friends and family at home, and that's hard to come to terms with. I'm just going to hold onto the hope that some of them check their emails as obsessively as I do (I may or may not have my email pulled up in another tab right now).
When all is said and done, though, I know I'll be all right. I'm going to Chile! Seriously, how cool is that? My bags are all packed -- I run no risk of leaving the house without my pocket handkerchief (or whatever the equivalent of that would be -- pocket tissues?) It's time to tuck The Hobbit into my back pocket and face south.
In a house in the south, there lived a girl...
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Challenge by Choice
My friends: Yeah, I've got about 7 essays to write and about 1,000 pages of reading due tomorrow. Also I work full time on the weekends and I like to bake in my free time.
My boyfriend: I'm working in lab for 40 hours this week and then I have 50 lab reports to grade and also homework. But I'll still call and talk with you for a few hours, too.
My parents: We have regular work and also let's pull apart the dishwasher and put it back together again.
Me: I'm pretty sure I can eat this entire bag of chocolate in a day.
You guys, there are 7 days remaining until takeoff. And then I promise I will have loads of exciting things to write about!
My boyfriend: I'm working in lab for 40 hours this week and then I have 50 lab reports to grade and also homework. But I'll still call and talk with you for a few hours, too.
My parents: We have regular work and also let's pull apart the dishwasher and put it back together again.
Me: I'm pretty sure I can eat this entire bag of chocolate in a day.
You guys, there are 7 days remaining until takeoff. And then I promise I will have loads of exciting things to write about!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)