I am predictable

Anna's mother was visiting briefly yesterday, and as J was eating his dessert banana, he took the sticker and told her, "Watch!" and put the sticker on my hand.

"Wait. What? What are you doing to me?! Stop that! Huh...I guess I'm organic!"

Everyone laughed, and J said:

"See, that's how I get my parents to be silly!"

I guess it's good to be reliably entertaining.

I'm occasionally funny in Spanish, too

In the bakery near school yesterday (Panadería Inglés, I highly recommend it), the TV was playing Chile's Got Talent, where some unappealing guy was trying very hard to sing a song, and failing. He could have been more out of tune, but he couldn't have been more earnest or self-assured about a really bad performance. The women behind the counter were, like the rest of us, mesmerized by the train wreck.

I finally got bored watching, and in Spanish I said to one of them, "Maybe a little more practice?"

She snarfed her tea, told her co-worker while she dried herself off, and they both cracked up laughing.

we need to talk

Dear Reader:

I'm cranky these days, I know. It's the fabled low point in the adjustment curve, although, so far as I can tell, it's about the separation from my support systems, and has little to do with being in another culture. It will pass.

But, you, dear Reader! According to Google Analytics, it appears that many of you have been doing things other than reading my blog. Maybe you have "families" or "jobs" or whatever, but my real concern is that your priorities are completely out of alignment. You should be paying attention to me. It's for your own good, really.

You've never been a problem Reader before, so I understand this will be a one-time thing. I'm glad we had this little chat. I look forward to seeing your improved readership in the future!

Love,

Chris

nunchuks, weapon of hilarity

Bruce re-posted this classic on Facebook:




Which gave me this delicious related video:

And then this one, to remind us that it's difficult even for experts:



Makes a gun look safe, doesn't it?

at least it was funny

I was invited to a Chilean birthday party on Friday night, for Marilyn, an English teacher at my school. It was supposed to start at 9, but due to a, erm, urgent household discussion that didn't involve me, we didn't leave until after 10. It was supposedly "very far," but I forgot that means different things to Chileans and Americans: it was maybe 35 minutes away.

We all needed to stop and get presents, which I figured were just normal house presents for when you go visiting, modified for the hostess's inability to drink or eat chocolate (the usual choices). Ximena and I both got inexpensive perfume.

After midnight it was time to open the presents, and I was a little embarrassed because they were obviously supposed to be birthday presents, not house presents.

Then Marilyn opened the gift from one of the teachers at our school, and it was...inexpensive perfume. Ximena was sort of looking around, and Oscar, who is wonderfully expressive, sunk down a bit behind the collar of his coat. Obviously, we were all hoping she at least wouldn't open all of our presents in sequence.

But no, then Marilyn opened Ximena's perfume, and that was kind of funny.

Then she opened mine as I looked on sheepishly, and luckily, she got lost in spasms of laughter for a few minutes. Doh.

family

The feel of our household is slowly shifting a bit, gelling into a more cohesive unit. Last night Oscar built a big fire to heat up the living room, and when he called me to come in, I discovered choripan on the table, as a sort of post-dinner munchie thing. (I guess you could have called it once, though I don't know. Our family eats at pretty random times.) Apparently in the winter, when they cook meat, they do it in the fireplace. I explained how Dad has been known to go use the grill while it's snowing.

Today at lunch, everyone acknowledged that the family washing machine has died. It's been making horrible noises and leaving strange stains on my clothing (hopefully my expensive khakis are salvageable). They're buying a new washing machine today or tomorrow.

Oscar: Chris, how many more days are you single?

Chris: Five.

[discussion about how Anna is getting to Valparaíso]

Chris: I'll have to hide all my Chilean girlfriends.

Oscar: We should talk about how much money it will take for me to keep quiet about that.

Chris: How much is a new washing machine?

Finally, a joke that translated well enough that Oscar had to laugh. There's hope!

Oscar is building a sort of lean-to next to the house where we can hang the laundry even in the rain. I went back to hang out and enjoy the stunning clear day, and we wandered around the property a bit, which turns out to be really big, with lots of random crap on it even beyond the piles of scrap wood and sheet metal (which seem de rigeur for Latin America anyway). There's an old concrete water fountain, some kind of small pool that might have been a really deep, tiny fish pond, and then what Oscar says was a watering trough. The house is 50 years old, and as recently as 40 years ago, the area was all countryside. It's similar to, and as hard to imagine as, the San Francisco Peninsula being mostly orchards.

I'm feeling pretty good about teaching tomorrow, which is funny since I'm sick. I imagine I'll be cranky again after curso G at the end of the day. But it feels like I'm getting the hang of it, and also tired of being stressed and deciding not to do that.