Barry from Life in Quotations re-posted a great poem and I was thinking I wanted to do the same. Well, mine isn't a great poem, but it's a fun fantasy... and since I'm all goofy and dreamy lately... I think it fits just fine!
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So I had an interesting conversation with my friend Gary last night about dating. All of a sudden it’s a thing that’s been brought to my attention. Yeah yeah, we all know I’m not all that keen on dates.

Why can’t I just bump into someone at the supermarket while looking for perfectly ripe tomatoes? Or why can’t I just run into McDreamy at Target while carrying too many things in my hands because I was probably too lazy or too stubborn to get a cart? Then we would both get down on our knees to pick up my rather useless batch of overpriced make-up and organic cleaning supplies, and bump our heads together on the way down again while we laughed hysterically at our seemingly planned clumsiness. Then he would apologize and I would say, “No, don’t be silly. It was all my fault!” And he would say, “No way! I’m the one that bumped right into you!” To which I would reply, “Okay, since you insist, it is all your fault, and you are indeed very clumsy.” He would giggle and ask me if I was being smart with him (a fact that I would deny, by the way, till our wedding night when I would confess I was just trying to be cute just to keep talking to him a bit longer).

Eventually all of my stuff would be off the floor and he would advise me to get a cart next time because that’s what most humans would do. I would ask him if he was being smart with me now, and he would giggle again and squint his eyes a little bit and look so adorable that I would actually get the courage to half-kiddingly ask him how he would make this up to me. After all, he did drop all my make up including the one eye shadow I really needed which is now out of stock, cracked, and turned into powder and of course, utterly unusable. He would say, “Utterly? That’s a ten dollar word there… uuuhhh… it’d be nice if you tell me your name since apparently now I need to make this up to you somehow.” “My friends call me Cindy” I would reply very fake-seriously, mostly because the butterflies in my stomach are eating up alive. “Huh…” he would say, “What do your, how shall we say, ‘non-friends’ call you?” I would think for a minute because, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have a ready-to-go witty response to that. “They call me Cindy too,” I’d say, admitting my defeat, while quickly changing the subject and telling him it was all fine and I was just being silly. He would smile and tell me he really likes silly, and also likes the non-chemical kitchen cleaner I was carrying.

And by now I'd be a little nervous and a little embarrassed and would probably walk away because what else would I do!

He would, of course, be wondering if he should ask me for my number or ask me out somewhere or both! He would wonder if I was married or single and did he misinterpret the signs? I would be biting my lip, walking rather slowly just in case he’d want to come after me, hoping that my jeans were flattering and that I only made a slight fool of myself.

“Hey CC!” he would say rather loudly. I would turn around, eyebrows up, pointing to myself, like who… moooiiii? “Yes you. That’s your new name – Clumsy Cindy."

I’d smile slightly trying not to show the absolute delight I felt that he was still talking to me. “How about coffee sometime? I thought you said I had to make it up to you,” he would self-righteously declare. “Fine,” I would say squinting my eyes slightly hoping that it had the same effect on him that it had on me. “That’s a cute look on your face,” he’d say. I would roll my eyes and shake my head playfully and say, “But I don’t even know your name…” To which he would reply, “My friends call me Hendric.”

Fantasies, et al. (Revisited)

So I realized after one too many blank stares that the country of Chile does not, against ALL common sense, sell you a cup of coffee... ANYWHERE. I put that as my update on Facebook and my friend Connie said: "Where are you, some lower circle of hell!"

After walking into Dunkin Donuts, McDonald's, and a series of other restaurants and bakeries asking for a tall cup of coffee to no avail, a waitress finally gave me the lowdown:

- They sell an express - an equivalent to an expresso minus the "o" because that's just the way it is.
- They also have cappuccinos - the latest and greatest discovery among my people. They love it. Grandma says she used to love it as well until she realized it was all foam and now feels ripped off. She always orders an express instead.
- Chococcinos and/or mochaccinos are also widely available. Go figure.
- Nescafe instant coffee is everywhere and I mean ALL OVER - in every household, every restaurant, and every shelf at every corner store. But really... who wants that?

So this weekend I caved in full defeat and ordered an express with grandma which is usually served with a cookie or sweet treat of some kind. They also serve you soda water in another small glass with your coffee... I don't know what else to say other than I never realized the huge infatuation this country has with soda water (or water with gas, as grandma says), ice cream, and cowboy boots. Yes, cowboy boots.

I asked the waitress why she couldn't just give me this very same express in a taller cup with more hot water. Where I live, we call that coffee. Just a normal, everyday cup of bitter, yummy coffee.

"Oh... I'm sorry," she said, "We don't sell that here."

Coffee... PLEASE?

Dear Nandito,

I don’t exactly know why I haven’t considered coming back here a priority. I don’t know how I’ve missed so much. Grandma speaks of being so ill she could barely go down the stairs to catch the subway to the clinic. What the hell was I doing that was so important that I wasn’t here to drive her? Why didn’t you sprinkle water in my face to wake me up? You used to do it to get me out of bed and on to school. Then you would parade with my shirt on your head and do a funny dance to make me laugh. You silly… silly man!


One of the biggest regrets I have in life is not being here when you left us. I knew you were terribly ill with prostate cancer. I knew grandma was suffering by your side. And I knew I just didn’t… want…to…know. The thought of watching you slowly deteriorate and die over 10 years ago wasn’t in my plans apparently. I barely acknowledged it. My mother flew over here and stood by your side and for that, I’m truly grateful. I, on the other hand, went on living although I had the means to come over and help. But I didn’t. In fact, I remember exactly down to the minute when my mother called and told me you were gone. I was on the way to a music performance by the University of Miami Wind Ensemble with my boyfriend… I thanked my mother for telling me and went to the show. I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel much. No, that’s not true. I was actually relieved. Shit… I was relieved, wasn’t I?

I’m so sorry. Words seem so useless… I was selfish and terrified to watch you go.

Remember when Karina, Claudio, Jaime, and Nati used to come over and play? You would gather us around looking up at you, then you'd grab a bunch of keys and eat them while we watched closely and very suspiciously. You chewed them and we even heard the metal being crunched and eaten! All my friends would oooohhh and aaaahhh and you asked us to touch your cheeks and feel how hard the keys were. Then you would swallow the entire key chain and sometimes even needed a little bit of water to go with it (what showmanship!). You would choose one lucky kid from the group to pull your hair reeeeaaaalllly hard… as hard as they could until one of your ears moved up and down. Eventually, the keys magically came out of that ear to the dismay of the crowd! Then we all got candy… we always got candy. And I always got a wink from you. I always waited for your wink.

I think I’ll share more of these memories with my friends soon. They’re priceless and etched in my brain as if it were yesterday. One day, I’m going to be the funny old lady that makes kids laugh, hides candy around the house, and makes everyone smile with silly practical jokes. And one day, I’ll forgive myself for not being here when you most needed your loved ones around. I’m here now with Nonita. She’s doing well but at 83 years old, I’m terribly afraid to lose her. Why couldn’t you live forever? I always thought you would. Everything here reminds me of you. Maybe I unconsciously decided not to come back here out of shame. Huh… that makes some kind of sense. UGH! I hate it that it does.

For what is worth… I am very sorry. Please forgive me. I love you more than I ever told you. I’m here now....

I Love You More Than I Ever Told You

Okay it’s getting to me.
I ignore it.
I’m even flattered at times.
But it’s getting to me……………..

PEOPLE IN SANTIAGO, CHILE STARE AT ME. PEOPLE STARE A LOT.

Men to be exact.

I’m tall. I know!!! But for goodness sake I was NOT expecting all of the attention. And it’s not the nice kind of attention. I’m actually… rather uncomfortable.

“That’s how I like my women - nice and big so they can hurt me”
“Baby baby baby so many curves and me with no breaks” (I’ve heard that one back home before!)
“Mommy, is she a giant?” (That one was funny!)
“What did they feed you? I want me some of that”
“Hey! *whistles to his friend who runs out of the store* Come see this shiiiiiit”

*sigh*

Mind you, I take up a lot of vertical room. I even wear heels because what girl doesn’t? I’m used to some kind of automatic attention because when I’m dressed up in all my glory, I’m about 6’3”… Unless I’m in South Beach where every other girl is taller than that and looks VERY hungry, I’m oddly tall… I get it.

But for goodness sake, I’m walking around with grandma here people!!! I guess it doesn’t help she’s only 4’11”...

*sigh to the 5th power*

I believe we all choose our bodies before birth. I’m getting all new agey with you here, but I really do! So I’m just going to have to do the usual --> put on my big girl panties and deal with it. I'm on vacation and it’s all my fault anyway:)

Hey Pssssttttt.... Lookey Here...

Meet Monito - grandma's kitty cat

He likes soaking up the sun on the patio roof

Breakfast is served

Yum!

Plaza de Armas

Grams having tea and sweets in downtown Santiago

State of the art photography :)

La Moneda

Yours truly at La Plaza de Armas

I have so much to write! Actually, my friend Patrick from mapanare.us asked me to write an article for his travel section. I just might do that! Brian also needs a biography written for his upcoming site. And how great are those panoramic pictures?

So much to do. So much to EAT. SO LITTLE TIME! I'm off to El Santuario de Teresa de Los Andes with my granny now. I'll let you know how that goes. XOXO

Pictures, et al.

It’s sunny out and a little hotter than expected. I decided to take off the thin black sweater I had on and wrapped it around my waist instead. You shouldn’t leave home without a sweater around here. As soon as the sun sets the temperature drops into the low 40s and next thing you know you’re buying a black pleather jacket from a toothless guy on the street. Equipped with our cart, cash, and comfortable sneakers, grams and I set out walking to buy goodies for the week. Today is Saturday and everyone goes to la feria – the street market in Santiago, Chile.

¡Todo a cien!
¡Casera! ¿Que se le ofrece!?
¿Como están los niños?
¿Está bien su mama?
Le cuento que Don Hernán se murió…
¡Los mejores tomates!

It’s a narrow street were folks set up tables and tents with anything form house hold cleaners, to potatoes, berries, chicken cutlets, mussels, spices, cochayullo and if you’re lucky, you might even be able to check out a book at the mobile national library van. Grandma sees two of her life-long neighbors and tells them I’m her grandkid. “No me diiiiiiga” says shorter lady who was probably somewhere in her late 70s with short dark hair, thin, and dressed very nicely. Last time she saw me I was begging for candy and running around her house after a dirty cat. Grandma shrugs and smiles. We keep walking. A guy is selling eggs in a van to my left. Grandma says we should stop by there on the way back. He sells good eggs.

Grandma says we should buy chicken here. See the color? They’re fresh. They go buy them in the morning and bring them here. Hola caserita! Como esta mi amor? Una pechuga en filete por favor y otra en cuadritos para cazuela. $3.200 pesos. Ya, como esta su guagua? Bien, gracias. The man cutting our chicken has thick and stiff black hair, but it’s slicked back and well kept. He wears green plastic gloves and cuts our meat, weighs it and tells another lady to keep going and stop causing trouble. He hands the yellow plastic bag with the goods to grandma, his daughter working the stand with him takes the cash and we go on our way.

We should buy tomatoes from him, says grandma pointing at a stand with bright red tomatoes $800 pesos per kilo. They’re more expensive there but they’re better than the rest. The other girl there sells them for $500, but they’re watery and have too many seeds.

In the distance I hear a guitar playing and a man singing a sad love song walks past us while a little girl wearing blue jeans and a pink shirt follows him closely. She pulls at his shirt and he pets her on the head. The man collects money from the vendors. He keeps on playing the guitar, keeps on singing and keeps on walking.

Aspirina para el dolor de cabeza, antibióticos para el resfrío!
Another guy barely speaking sells aspirin and flu medicine from a basket.

Empanadas!
Yo quiero empanadas!

A young girl walks around with meat patties selling to the street vendors. She sold some and some she exchanged for other goods. I’ll take a kilo of tomatoes instead. Say hi to your mother!

Grandma buys bright orange squash, some kiwis, and eight oranges from another guy. They speak of Don Hernan who passed away this week. The guy mentions he saw Don Hernan’s wife the other day and that she wasn’t doing too well. I know, says grandma. I’ll call her again tonight. Say hello to your wife and I’ll see you Wednesday. Save me some good oranges. Chao casera!


We have everything we need. Grandma doesn’t buy lettuce at the market. She says they’re dirty and your tummy will hurt if you eat them. And we won’t buy eggs today. Dona Miriam brought some from the country on Monday and they’re in the pot next to the cat’s food. We should eat those first.

I don’t say much the entire time and just help grandma pull her cart around. My sunglasses are on and covering the tears that seamlessly streamed down my face. No one noticed… probably because I was smiling.

It’s good to be home.

Where have I been?

Home

I moved!
I unpacked half of my stuff!
My new place is a royal mess!
New neighbors keep knocking at my door to introduce themselves!
I packed my suitcases!
I leave for Chile today!
Gradma has called 10 times already to make sure all is well!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Night!

!!!