Identity Theft, or who wants to be Eileen?
One of the many hoops that the Chilean government has us gringos jumping through, like trained seals (or are those dolphins?) is going to Registro Civil to get a "certificado de antecedentes." This is a perforated form that they give to you at low cost (anyone know...
Another ode, this time to the oven, with an ounce of fear
Oh the oven. The source of so much heat in these winter months, the ability to burn cookies with its two (count 'em, two) settings, which are turbo and nuclear. The oven is so much fun. And the oven is dangerous. I was once at a mountain hut in Landmannalaguar,...
Cerro La Campana, transportation and fall comes to Chile (finally!)
I'm torn here whether I should talk about Chile's national parks or Chile's unbeatable public transportation (at least in the central region, in which Santiago is located). I guess tons has been written about the national parks, and not that much about transportation...
I *might* just be the crazy word lady.
How do new words move in to your brain? Do they creep in through a crack in the window, do to they move in proudly, with suitcases and boxes, and a could-you-move-that-couch-a-squidge?I have puzzled over this many times, both in English and in Spanish. Well, I have...
Pomaire, in pictures. But barely any terra cotta.
Welcome class! Yesterday we learned that she-donkey milk is still sold in Santiago, that it's high in good lipids, that Cleopatra bathed in it and that Emily could use your get well soon vibes after a very unfortunate incident which she summed up on twitter as "I...
Donkey milk and raise your hand if you’d like an artichoke.
Leche de burra! (she-donkey milk), Leche de burra! This is what one of my friends heard as a child as the local she-donkey milk salesman peddled his wares. Now I didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure this happened while he was living in the small southern...
Alex, I’ll take beespit for 1,000. Or which way does the runny nose go in South America?
Down, the runny nose goes down. Here we call it romadizo if we're in polite company, congestión if we don't want to allude to the nose blowiness of it all (or if none is necessary), or we talk about mocos if we're with kids or want to be a little yucky. You'll be...
¿Dónde está la guagua?/Where’s the baby?
I am truly astonished to find that I have never told the "Where's the baby"/Dónde está la guagua? story. It's a tale of chicken pox and vaccinations and inadequate medicinery and being pushy and explaining math. Pull up a chair, you're going to love it. So one day I...
The near-seizing of my well-be-gotten rhubarb jam
Once upon a time I posted a call for seized-goods stories. Many fellow bloggers delivered, but most of them have long since moved on from blogging. What remains is my story below. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Somewhere along the way I...
Montevideo, the places you’ll see.
There are many things to love about Uruguay. For one thing, the capital city is mostly safe, very pedestrian-friendly, pretty easy to get around by foot, bus and taxi (and the taxi drivers are unerringly honest). Montevideo captured my heart, but I already knew it...
