Call off the search party

If you were wondering why Manny Ramirez has not shown up to Red Sox training camp, please stop your worrying and know that he is safe. He is down here with me taking spanish classes. Actually, he is dangerously close to failing out, but that's just manny being manny.


ps. if you aren't a sox fan, you should be.

Endlessly smelly Germans

I may have stumbled upon the most entertaining person in the world (not named Jeremy Grey). He is german, not young and besides a massive hygene problem, he made my weekend in Valparaiso. Some friends and i went to this coast town (likely named after Valparaiso University in Indiana), and we stayed at typical hole in the wall hostel. When we got there, we split up the girls and guys, and the three of us guys took a 4 person room hoping no one else would show up. No one showed up. Instead, someone was already there. That somebody was Thomas (pronounced Tomas), a white haired German of about 55 (maybe 70) years, who was quite possibly the worst smelling person in South America. With little exaggeration, the room smelled as though he had been pooping in tube socks, tying the open ends into knots, and hiding them throughout the room.

Thomas was quick to suggest that the 4 of us go out and enjoy some spirits, and more importantly, persue women. Actually, it was more like: "Yes. Valparaiso goood. i have bar we go tonight for to meet girl. last night i met girl. yes."

Thomas´ travel gear included a beat up metal frame back pack, a sleeping bag probably used by General Lee during the civil war (likely not washed since then as well) and a walking stick. As we made our beds between trips to the hallway for air, we learned that Thomas was traveling through South America on his way to Antartica. When I pressed him for his intentions in Anartica, he said he didn´t know.

He then laid down on the uncovered hostel mattress and took a nap. It was noon.

Unfortunately, we did not go out with Thomas that night. Instead, we were out until 5:30 in the morning at a club named "El Huevo". ("The Egg"). I secured my position as the worst dancer in the club relatively quickly, and also waited at the bar for a drink for 30 minutes while the bartenders were not very busy. I eventually found out that you need to purchase drink tickets at the front of the club to get drinks.

When we arrived to our hostel at 5:30am, i was surprised to see a man stumbling down the road in the general direction of our hostel. Not only was this man a guest of our hostel, but he was also our 4th roommate, Thomas. At the front door, I asked how his night was, and twenty seconds later he uttered something to the affect that he couldn´t talk now, but the ladies had been amazing. With that, he disappeared up to our outhouse of a room.

With the sun poaching down through the windows at 9am, i opened my eyes to see Thomas dead to the world, sleeping with his dress shirt and sweater still on, an eye mask over his face, and a pair of blue tighty whities. He was sleeping with no covers on the bare hostel mattress. I nearly threw up.

Wine, Czech chicks, smushed grapes and adams apples

I went to a vineyard yesterday and left unsober. Some compadres and i went on a field trip to the Cousino Macul Vineyard, located 20 minutes outside of Santiago. (Close enough to the city to officially soak up the fresh urban smog). In addition to my friends, the tour included a very attractive and classy tour guide in her late 30´s, a mexican couple, a few chileans, a california family (the son of which, repeatedly tugged on my shorts thinking i was his dad. I am happy to report that i am not), and 20 Czechs. This is because they love to drink, take pictures and drink.

Only one of the 20 Czechs spoke english and/or spanish, so everything that was said in Spanish and then english, was translated into Czech by a women who can only be described as manish. In a booming baritone voice, she would whip off minutes of translation, while the rest of us cringed from the echo created in the underground wine cellars. Over the course of the tour we were given several samples, where hostesses walked around and filled up our wine glasses. When the ladies were doling out the first rare orange wine (meticulously squished from skinned black grapes) i experienced a true Milton moment (stapler and basement guy from Office Space). They started with three bottles, and i soon saw the first and second bottles empty into the Czechs, and as i stuck out my glass for the orange wine, other tour goers kept nudging in front of me, until the point where the final bottle was almost empty and only a few of us were sin vino. The final bottle emptied into the glass of the person next to me, filling their glass to the perfect sample tasting size. And then the lady walked away while i was standing there with my hand and glass extended. Out of the entire tour, i was the only person who didn´t get filled up.

*For the non-office space generation: Milton from office space was a mumbling idiot who was at an office birthday party and they were distributing cake. He was first in line and got cake first, but a prototypical secretary tells Milton to stop being selfish and keep passing until everyone has cake. He complies begrudgingly until the point that all cake is passed out and only he is without cake. He proceeds to sets the office on fire.

In different news; on a bus (micro) to the coast this morning, the couple in the seat next to me were made out for two straight hours. This was not awesome. Which reminds me: Paulo is cooking Chacha dinner in the next episode of the spanish class movie. (probably something full of fiber and aphrodisiacs). They also showed Paulo doing home exercises in a speedo. On a side note, I am definitely fitting into the culture more and more, especially as I sit at this computer terminal in a speedo.

See pie (foot), see pie in stu´s mouth

The Horta household (the family i am staying with) is a revolving door of people coming and going. There is Gustavo, Ilda, Silvi, Tobey the dog, Stu (babe magnet for the diminutive), Pretha (another student from Detroit, by way of houston and india) and most recently, an 18-20 year old boy. I was not aware of how this fellow gained entrance beyond the gate and big nutted mutt, and into the casa de horta. Using my analytical skills learned in pre-k, i figured he was a grandson. However, I took it upon myself to confirm. The 18-20 year old was taking a siesta in the next room and i was having my third lunch of the day with Ilda (the 70 year old mom) and Pretha. In crappy spanish, i gestured toward the bedroom and asked Ilda if the sleeping boy was her grandson. She nearly had a stroke when i asked her this question, and Pretha put her head in her arms to muffle her outbursting laugh. Instead of using "nieto" (grandchild), i used "novio". What i found out between Pretha´s gasps for air and tears, was that i had asked Ilda if her grandson was her fiance/boyfriend/suitor. I found out later that they still use the word suitor in Chile.

During my first lunch that day, i was sitting at a cafe with a Canadian (my boy Jon from ottawa), Shivet from Israel, steve from texas and Joanna from England. To set the mood, i was drinking oj. We soon found out that Joanna had stayed at the Horta´s the week before, and because i moved in, she had to move out. This did not please her. Through the course of conversation, breakfast at the horta´s came up, and i postulated that the breakfast was not very good. Joanna asked if i had tried the bread, and thinking she was on the same page as me, i quickly responded: "if your talking about the flat, brown, stale, crappy bread that tastes like shit, then yes". Joanna, in a defensive tone, piped up "I gave them that bread as a house warming gift from England". awkwardness ensued.

I may suffer from clinical retardation, but this is fine with me, because THE POOL IS OPEN!!

Upon further review, it isn´t my ATM that doesn´t work, but in fact, me. It turns out that all i needed to do was press an overly prominent button saying (in exquisite English) "foreign accounts" . My Bank even sent me an email indicating that i was an idiot, and to try it again. Anyway, crisis averted, and now i have pesos and can buy as much pollo as i want.

The highlight of the day (in addition to receiving notice from my professor that Argentina has the highest population and ratio per capita of women with breast implants) was that the "piscina" (pool) at my chilean family´s house is now full and open for business. This fact generated an unusual amount of excitement for the family, and in particular, the daughter, Silvi (I think that´s her name, it may be Martha for all i know, i can´t understand a word she says). My first thought was; "i don´t remember seeing a pool", but i went with it, not knowing how to do differently. After checking out the pool, it became clear that Chileans refer to any container larger than a blue recycling bin as a swimming apparatus. Regardless, i could do nothing but share in the excitement.

As a side note, in the last 24 hours, the daughter (who i startle the living crap out of whenever she doesn´t see me coming) has a developed a detectable crush on me. This is evidenced by her saying "que lindo, or que hermoso" (how cute, how handsome) whenever i move about the house. Her mini-crush has manifested itself in her taking a keen interest in making fun of me and how tall i am. I can take it though, i have thick skin (like a cart path). i guess this is warranted, seeing as though to her, i am equivalent to the BFG to an averaged sized person.

Anyway, as previously mentioned, Silvi took great interest in the pool and my use of said pool, and insisted that i dive into the 2 ft deep glorified bathtub and swim some laps. She found this suggestion to be decisively funny.

Shoes tied up tight, i hope i don´t get in a fight. 1st day of school

You know what else is the antithesis of fun?? showing up to Chile with 15 american dollars in your pocket and an ATM Card that doesn´t work. As of now, i have 3000 pesos, which is about US$5. This leaves available funds at 2 cents per day for the rest of my trip. .

I showed up 45 minutes late to my first class, and was reprimanded for my tardiness. This chastisement bounced off me like a golf ball on a cart path, as i couldn´t understand a word the person was saying and just smiled and nodded, adding "mucho gusto" (pleasure to meet you) when the fellow was finished speaking.

Class was great. We watched a spanish movie where the sexual tension between the two main characters (Paulo and Chacha) was palpable. I foresee a Demi & Swazy-like pottery scene by the end of the film. (i´ll obviously keep you posted). What did i learn today? 1) the same word is used for matrimony and shot gun in Chile. (ironica). 2) don´t walk in on the daughter of your host family when she is changing. this causes her much embarrassment, and makes her run away at the speed of a well rested lynx. 3) I need to learn spanish. I had three lunches today, because i have yet to figure out how to tell my host mom i have already eaten.

All of this obviously begs the question:
If the Governor of California threw Verne Troyer (mini-me), would the "i don´t trust him as far as i can throw him" cliche still apply?

18 hour plane rides are the antithesis of fun

I am pleased to report that i am not dead. Other than a delay at Laguardia, a five mile sprint thru the Atlanta Airport, and the subsequent sweat fest that ensued once i got to my seat, i made it, both 50lb bags made it, and i did not get sucked up by a vortex at the airport, as previously feared. However, I would like to make a formal request to any Delta Officials perusing the internet and that happen upon this blog that nobody reads: Way too much leg room in Coach. I say drop it from 8 inches to 4. Nobody will notice.

Anyway, after getting 2 hours of crappy sleep on the overnight flight, i managed to pull myself together to meet and greet my host family. The Family, Gustavo, Ilda, and their daughter, who is inflicted with dwarfism, live in a great house in a lovely neighborhood and could not be nicer. I have my own apartment separated from the house. Soon after arriving, they suggested i take a nap. Just wanting to be a good guest, i complied.

I made the mistake of rehearsing some spanish greetings and conversation pieces before i got to the house, which has promptly backfired, as they now think i can speak and understand spanish. I haven´t understood a single word since. However, on the bright side, i like water without gas.

D Day (departure day)

Beginning of trip to South America:
Blog Name: Chilean Soup

Introduction Summary: I am a 25 year old male, mildly immersed in a quarter life crisis. Having left my job (with decent pay and benefits: health care, free coffee, etc), I packed up my belongings and moved to Chile. I know approximately zero people in Chile, my spanish is terrible at best, and i love Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing (which doesn't exist in South America). Join me as i laugh at myself making every possible mistake a foreigner can in a new country. (PG-15)


I slept 4 hours last night. That's how i roll.. Actually, i was a nervous wreck last night and couldn't fall asleep to save my life. Who the hell am I to move to a new Hemisphere and assume everything is going to be ok. Therefore, if i vanish into some vortex the second i step off the plane in Chile, this will be my first and last blog. I hope you liked it. a lot.