First Day in Pichilemu

After a three hour bus ride from Santiago to Pichilemu we had arrived to our final destination. Whizzing past trees, twisting around endless curves, passing many dilapidated casas, the magnificent waters of the Pacific Ocean revealed themselves, beckoning us to what would be our home for eight months. We could see it for what felt like a fleeting moment, and then it was gone, and we and our luggage rested anxiously on a sidewalk, waiting. We, (Bethany, another volunteer, Daniela, our Chilean guide and friend, Kyle and I) waited on the curbside,

for what, I wasn't sure. After two weeks of a disorganized orientation, I was used to not knowing what was going to happen next, and so I waited without questions. However, we didn't have to wait long, before two cars with two men came along quickly and brought us to a building we now lovingly call "The Prov." We were ushered into a room with couches, offered tea with cookies, the staple of the Chilean diet, and poked and prodded with many questions. Bethany, who is just about fluent in Spanish, did all of the talking. I didn't mind, because I understood maybe three words of the entire conversation and just stared at the rapidly moving mouths hoping something sensible would come out. After a while, I excused myself so that I could use the restroom, but when I came back, the room had filled with three more guests. Three women, one a nun, stared at me as I walked back into the crazy Spanish speaking room. The director had forgotten my name which I excused since I hadn't caught any of their names. As I approached he said in Spanish, "This is .... she." I introduced myself to these strangers, going around the room and dutifully kissing every one's cheek then quickly found refuge in the sofa. Because there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit comfortably, Kyle and I had to squeeze into the couch with one of the new women. After officially squeezing into our sardine can, this woman sitting next to me, whom I didn't know, was introduced again as my host mom. I was so embarrassed I tried to apologize and laugh at the confusing situation, but it was nearly impossible to turn and look at her as I was lodged meticulously in between her and Kyle. The other two ladies were also introduced as Bethany's host mom, and the nun was the director of her school. After we were pryed loose, our host mom was told to come back for us later in the afternoon.
After the awkward meeting, we climbed into a car and were taken for a tour around Pichilelemu. Our first stop, the ocean, Punto de Lobos or Point of the Wolves. We were told that this amazing location was named for the many wolves who used to come for mating, but since Chileans had taken up residence, they no longer came. We were a bit confused as to why wolves would come to this particular location by the ocean for mating, until our misunderstanding was corrected weeks later. Lobos did not refer to land animals, but creatures of the sea, Lobos del Mar, seals.
The waters at this location are particularly violent and treacherous. They dance in unison to create graceful and awe-inspiring waves. However beautiful, this dance is also frightening. The dancers are choreographed perfectly with centuries of practice, and the force behind these waters holds an ancient and incredible power. I am afraid of this spot and I am filled with contradicting emotions. Fear, and humility bounce around my body, but peace and happiness course through my veins. It is our first day in our new city and I can't keep my feet on the ground or figure out what emotion to grab hold of to keep as mine.
We drove around the rest of the city with our guide pointing out particulars in Pichilemu. The old Casino which is now an empty building was built by the founder of Pichilemu, in hopes of making the town a huge tourist attraction; seafood restaurants that are designed for tourists to pay too much dinero; and the Parque Ross, a park with a wonderful view of the ocean. After the tour, we venture past an Internet cafe, up some stairs into a room that feels like somebody's house, and into an empty dining room. We are served pisco sours, the Chilean lemon lime specialty drink, and local wine. Our meal is delicious, and the conversation is sometimes slow enough for me to follow and even chime in on occasion. I must say, however, the wine is somewhat to thank as it helped to loosen my tongue. After our delicious lunch, we were taken to our designated schools. Who ever had the idea to stuff and wine the American volunteers before their official and formal introduction to their places of employment had a sick sense of humor. In any case, the introductions went well and the schools were all very welcoming and excited for the new comers to teach their children English. After visiting my schools, and Bethany's school, (the rural schools were saved for the following day) our tour was finally coming to an end. But our day was far from over. Although I felt that it had already been the longest day of my life and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and curl into a ball, we had the second round of this on going test waiting for us at The Prov, our host mom. It was to be the first time, we were left alone with a Spanish speaker who didn't also know English.
Camila, a short, beautiful woman, with blond hair, brown, cheerful eyes, and an easy laugh was waiting for us when we arrived back to the Prov. She gave us a tour of the house and introduced us to her pregnant dog, Canela. She was patient with us and praised us for our Spanish. She told us that before, they hosted a couple from Germany who spoke absolutely no Spanish whatsoever, and our little Spanish was a great improvement on no Spanish. I was greatly relieved to find this bit of information out, because it meant that I had a low expectation to meet and exceed rather than a high expectation to fall short of. We discussed anything we could think of to talk about. We discussed the spiders on the porch, who refused to admit defeat even after their homes were destroyed once a week, the orange sun kissing the horizon and the bright moon taking it's place, the horses eating and neighing in the pasture, and the washing machine that stopped functioning but couldn't be fixed in Pichilemu. We also discussed, Jorge, her husband, who hadn't arrived home yet. After an hour or more of talking, we excused ourselves to the bedroom, to start unpacking our belongings. After a short while, Jorge arrived home. He informed us that he knew five English words, one of which was lawyer because that was his profession. Jorge is the equivalent to a district attorney and has a reputation of leading with an iron fist. As we talked over our fantastic four course meal, fit for a king, or at least someone in the king's court, they described to us a recent case of a corrupt public official taking bribes and pocketing money whom Jorge had prosecuted and successfully placed in jail. Among our topics were differences in American and Chilean culture, different animals, foods, and how and why we chose Chile. Somehow, we succeeded to have a two and a half hour conversation with our broken Spanish. When dinner was over, and we had given them their picture book of Texas, and their stuffed armadillo, we retreated to our bedroom to discuss the miracle that had just transpired. I don't know how it happened but amazingly we conversed and for the most part understood what was being discussed. It was an amazing feeling. We loved our family from the get go and they continue to be amazing. We are truly blessed to have such a wonderful family to live with.

I would just like to apologize for my tardiness in writing blogs. I will try and post more frequently! For now however, another volunteer has written a column for a newspaper in Ohio and Colorado about our experience here in Chile. His writing style is very different than mine, but I found it described our first two weeks in Santiago well. I want to share it with you now. But soon, I will post my own writing instead of plagiarizing others!

p.s. I just want to say, that yesterday, as Kyle and I were walking home, we saw a blue truck drive by. There was nothing particulary interesting about the truck itself, except that in the back trailer was a white llama enjoying the ride. It was the funniest thing at the time and totally unexpected! Just goes to show that you never know what to expect in Chile.
By Rob:
Housed smack in the middle of Santiago, Chile, the Chilean Ministry of Education’s new crop of sixty volunteers sticks out like dachshunds in a herd of alpaca.

When we break for the festive nightlife of the city after a tedious day of orientation, our group evokes images of the pack mentality that causes misunderstanding between cultures around the globe.

Fortunately for us, the curious stares from locals and sputtering conversations impeded by language barriers turn more favorable when our veritable mission is exposed. Upon recognizing our goal to “open doors” through the English language, the citizens of Santiago answer our questions and help us on our way.

A welcome ceremony at the modern, glass-encased United Nations building on the day of our arrival yields enough goose bump moments to mask the fatigue of our redeye flights. Nightly Spanish lessons help us to better understand the “Chilenismos” that are smattered frequently throughout the Spanish here and make the language tough to decipher. And soothing glasses of wine shared in the midst of tiki torches, palm trees and screaming red umbrellas on the patio of our four-story international hostel ease the onset of total immersion.

For every instance in which we wear our wine at two in the morning or blow pesos due to deficient Spanish and terrible currency conversion skills, we aspire to convey gems of the English language to our future students several times over. We learn from our mistakes as well as from the most unlikely of resources, such as the street dogs of Santiago.

In comparison to American dogs, the street dogs are dirty and unkempt. They are a bit intrusive into public privacy and scavenge for food. Nonetheless, American dogs are not nearly as savvy. Our dogs are spoiled while the street dogs of Santiago prosper and gain intellect from the grittiness of their existence. Makes me wonder why those from the States are given the world yet many still howl at the moon?

My mother will be proud to hear that some of what I learn here is not from vagabond animals but through the escapades of others. On one warm and starry night I head “home” at a reasonable hour while my companions prolong their evening of debauchery in the bars of Santiago. The night tears right along before it comes to a screeching halt.

The off-duty Chilean police officer from whom my four compatriots accept a ride from bar to hostel blasts techno music and promptly backs his jeep square into a sturdy tree. He proceeds to slam the car straight forward, over the curb and into a street sign. My friends clamor for an escape as the officer spins his wheels fruitlessly in the middle of a flower bed.

Lingering visualizations of these exploits and my delight in making the right decision still make my day, as do thoughts of our daytime excursions into Chile’s vivacious schools.

Our “observations” of local students and teachers are reciprocated by the children ten-fold. We enter any given school and are poked and prodded like cattle at a 4-H fair. The younger students, clad neatly in blue or grey suits and ties for the boys, and skirts, sweaters and stockings of like colors for the girls, nearly fall flat on their backs when we stroll through the expansive interiors of their open air, two-story schools. Our egos blast into orbit.

We pose for cell-phone cameras and sign autographs. Our mere essence of being is as alien to the Chilean kids as a surfboard to an Ohioan.

The lucky amongst us are invited to join indigenous dances with children garnished only in grass skirts, body paint and coconut bras in front of hundreds of giggling students, teachers and friends. Although awkward and red-faced, we grit our teeth and bear the embarrassment of the moment because it offers a rare chance to release our perpetual inner-child.

After all the hoopla of Santiago, the next step in our journey is to part ways from the group and the big city to live out our dreams in a whole new reality in the schools of Chile.

If all involved have taken anything from our first two weeks in Chile it may be that “gringomania” has struck in a huge way and there is no sign of a slump any time soon.

Thanks Rob for the great story!

Why Chile

Why Chile?
Our first evening in Chile, Saturday evening we sat around outside under the awning introducing ourselves, drinking pisco sours, the native drink to Chile, and attempted to discover the path that led everyone here to the same place at the same time. Everyone had different stories, but it seems every one's story was exactly the same, looking for something different, wanting to learn about a different culture, different people, and a new way of doing things, in a foreign part of the world. We were all looking for something, but something we couldn't find where we came from, so we went looking for it. Many people ask me, "why? Why Chile? " And normally I say because we wanted to learn Spanish, the program was on sale, and Chile is beautiful, but the true answer is more complicated than that. I will only answer this question for myself, although I am sure Kyle's is very similar to mine, we aren't truly the same person, so I will allow him to answer this question for himself. I love Texas, I love my friends, and my home and my family, but I crave something more, something that I can't explain. When I first took the job at High Country Marketing, I was excited because I felt like I was going to build a strong future for Kyle and I, but along side that excitement was a voice screaming at the top of it's lungs that it was too long term of a job and with it, I would never be able to just get up and leave the country if I wanted. I guess I should mention that since high school, I have had a strong desire to join the peace corps. The peace corps offers many things that I desired, an ability to speak another language, to live in another country for two years, and a life changing experience of service to others. After taking my job, I was afraid that I would never see that dream realized, a dream that I had carried close to my heart for a long time. I felt suffocated by reality and by ordinary and a dull existence. My spirit is one of giving and adventure, and neither were being fulfilled in Austin. I felt so alone, afraid and timid, something I am not accustomed to. My spirit was desperate for air, but there wasn't even promise of it in my future, and I could feel it shriveling inside. With High Country Marketing, I had one client and two more that had said yes, but hadn't signed the dotted line. When the dotted line remained empty, my phone calls avoided, and my one client unhappy with the progress, my first reaction was to feel unhappy and confused, but within a couple of days, I realized that this door that slammed in my face could actually be my out, my window, my silver lining. I called Kyle as soon as the storm clouds revealed their first gleams of sparkles. Although my enthusiasm overpowered kyle's tenfold, I heard excitement in his voice. The next couple of weeks I spent glued to the computer, researching all of the many possibilities. I applied for at least ten positions, including, Japan, South Korea, Argentina, and Chile. We chose Chile, not for the money, obviously, but because we felt that it was the best fit. So here we are, on this roller coaster we have chosen, not knowing where the next turn will take us, but excited just to be on the ride!

Vina y Valpo

Weekend Trip to Vina del Mar and Valparaso. That weekend just about all 60 of us escaped to the beach town Vina del Mar. Kyle and I went with a group of 20 people. We had planned on a group of 6, but everyone left around the same time, so we stayed together. It had it's advantages, we got a discounted rate for our bus tickets and a discounted rate for filling up an entire hostel. We stopped at a pizza place to eat and then headed to the beach. Chile has a stray dog problem, most of them aren't dangerous, but
most are badly in need of bathes and a trip to the vet.
Evidently dogs like the beach too, and if you take their spot, they just plop down on top of your stuff. One particular dog also decided that people sleeping on the beach actually want to be woken up with a big wet tongue, and gracefully did his duty waking two of the guys in our group up from their restful slumber. He stayed around long enough to be named Jasper. We lay around, walked along the beach, took pictures of the Brazilian martial arts being practiced, shopped along the sidewalk and then headed back. Our hostel mom, Christina, took us to an Italian food restaurant run by her friend. The food was ok and a little overpriced. I really wanted to go dancing so we headed over to some clubs, however, dancing in Chile doesn't start until 1:30 or 2 am, and Kyle has a hard time staying up much later than 1 so we headed back after enduring karaoke for over an hour. Evidently we didn't miss much because they didn't play great music. The next day, the groups broke up into smaller groups, and we went different directions. Kyle and I wanted to visit Valparaso which is this little town 15 minutes (or 5 minutes, depending if you have a crazy bus driver on speed) away with a beautiful view of the area. It is a little art community and many of the walls of the buildings were painted with colorful murals. It was a fun filled weekend.
The following week was as packed full as the week before. Our days started at 8 and ended at 7 or later. About 10 people got sick, including Kyle. Everyone had different symptoms and the paramedics didn't really say what everyone had, just told most people not to drink the water or eat fresh fruit for a week and gave them a shot in the butt which made everyone feel much better. Kyle didn't get the shot, they said he didn't need it. It is unclear why they gave some people the shot and not others, but we won't worry about it. Kyle's birthday, we were to visit another school, and this time we were placed in the same group, but Kyle was sick and stayed home, so the teacher had the kids sing happy birthday to Kyle so I could record it on the camera and bring it back to him. He was better by the evening, well enough to go out for a drink, but he went home early, since he was still recovering.

The next weekend was a sad one, we had to say goodbye to all of our new friends, and we weren't sure when we would ever see any of them again. They were spreading us out throughout all of the regions, starting from the North in the desert, one of the driest places in all the world (one part of this desert hasn't had recorded rain in 400 years) to the place called the 'end of the earth', since it is so close to Antarctica. Chile is so diverse and we will all have so many different experiences in our different areas of Chile. The desert people left first, and it was hard to say goodbye without crying. The end of the earth crowd left next and so on until the 5th and 6th regions were the only ones left alone.
It was a packed full two weeks with lots of disorganization, complaining and frustrating moments, but it also was filled with lots of laughter and inspiration. With a group of kindred spirits, it is difficult not to become fast friends during two weeks, and I hope that we are able to keep in touch. I don't feel as prepared as I would like, but I only hope that I can make a difference in the schools I have been placed. Pichilemu, here I come!

Orientation

Two week orientation

Santiago, what an experience. The capitol of the richest economy in South America, makes me afraid to see the maintenance on rest of the continent. Santiago has divisions between rich and poor areas; from the west and the south, the poorest, to the east, the richest, it all seems to have in common a general lack of maintenance, included in this package is disorganization, rundown buildings not made to last and graffiti decorating the walls and crevices of the city. However, though we spent two weeks in this city, most of what we saw were the inside of the hostel, and classrooms where we were given invaluable information, in Spanish!
Let us start from the beginning of our arrival. I believe I have already covered the most horrid part of the trip, where we weren't picked up from the airport, and streaming through my mind was the fear that this whole event might actually be a scam. My patience was running very low, not realizing that in the next couple of weeks, I would need all of the strands of patience I could string together to get me through this two week orientation. In the taxi ride to the hostel, instead of the relief I desired, I felt magma rumbling inside my body, preparing for an eruption that would compete with Mt.St. Helen. However, I realized that it might not be the best for a first impression, to go explode into molten lava, destroying all of Santiago with flames from the center of the earth streaming out of my nose and mouth and so, I quited the fire, and persuaded it to strike another time. Arriving to the hostel and finding it, the correct destination, relieved some of my anxiety. The first shower after traveling for close to 22 hours, was the most amazing shower I have ever taken in my life. We had flown from the worst winter storm of the season in New York, to the last stance of summer in Chile. We had sweat from having too many jackets on while carrying all of our belongings on a New York subway, as well as sweat from Chile's sun and the fear of never making it out of the airport. The hostel didn't have AC, and the cold water of the shower, made me want to melt into a puddle; on second thought though, I didn't want to travel down the pipes of the city only to find myself in the sewer system; so I left the shower a new woman, refreshed, clean and ready to take on the crazy adventure I chose to embark on.
The food at the hostel, I must say, was a bad orientation into Chilean food. We were served so much bland meat and rice, without the famous vegetables that this country in known for. Many people signed up for the vegetarian plates, which also had a bad wrap, because it was the same salad nearly every night, of ice burg lettuce, a couple of slices of tomatoes, beets, sometimes an egg and occasional cucumber. We arrived Saturday afternoon and had the rest of the weekend to relax and settle into the swing of Santiago. We were to find out later that there were 60 of us altogether on the 8 month program, and three couples. We were the only married couple, but another couple, a much older couple, was about to embark on both of their third marriages while in Chile. The second couple, the girl from Denmark, and the boy from Pennsylvania, Aaron and Christine, became immediate friends. Tall, super-model handsome, funny, and kind. They make an extraordinary couple. They met at Penn State while Christine was an exchange student from Denmark, and the rest is history. They had been living in Santiago for several months already, teaching businessmen/women to speak English, but felt isolated because they had come without a program, lived alone in an apartment, in a country that they couldn't speak the language well in so they had decided to change course and join English Opens Doors.
Sunday, Kyle and I split up, displaying our independence, trying to prove that we weren't that couple. I went to a tourist hot spot called San Christabol, which was a mountain with a really big statue of Mary looking down on the city of Santiago. It was a really fun trip, which included a ride up a funicular, gradually revealing the whole of the city step by step as we climbed up the mountain. After staring at the industrial city and trying to make out the mountain through the smog and pollution, we stopped to have some beers and appetizers at the restaurant at the top. It was lovely and exciting to be in this new place, with so many really interesting people. Kyle went with a group, including the second couple, to the ritzy mall that was so commercialized it felt like New York City. He said that it was by far the nicest mall he had ever been to. Surrounding the mall were restaurants such as TGI Fridays, Beni Hanas, Ruth's Chris Steak House and information helpers on segways roaming around the mall. However the trip was cut short because Aaron started to feel ill. That evening, paramedics, who make house calls, came by. We hoped that it was just the flu, but because they had traveled all over the country Malaria and other diseases were mentioned by the doctor as possibilities. After a couple of days they ruled out Malaria, but moved them to a hotel closer to the hospital. The illness turned out to be Dangay (sp?) fever which is a form of the black plague (don't worry, it's not found in Chile), but only kills about 10% of it's victims. There are evidently 4 different strands of this disease that is transmitted through mosquito's. A major risk area is Easter Island, which is where they were placed, and since it is more deadly the second time around, they have moved Aaron and Christine to our region, not our city, but an hour and a half away. Actually they told us that Texas is a risk area as well for Dangay fever.
Monday was our first day of true orientation and what an orientation it was! We were told to dress up formally because we were meeting officials of the Government and program. We were bussed to a building, shoved into an auditorium and made to endure lectures in Spanish, which went through one ear and out the other. I really had no idea what was being said, but the frustrating part was, I cared to know. I wanted to know about this program and how it was started and everything that they covered, but they spoke to us, the teachers of English, in Spanish, and close to half of us didn't understand enough Spanish to gather a worthwhile amount. Half way through, we were given a break with cookies, cakes and tea, which we would soon discover was part of the daily routine in Chile. (my favorite part). Tuesday was the history of Chile... in Spanish. I honestly didn't know why I bothered to show up to Spanish only events. They only helped in making me feel more stupid about myself for not being able to speak Spanish. The discussion about the Chilean school system was in English, which I was very grateful for. Just to give you some idea of the Chilean school system, there are three different types; completely publicly funded, half private, half government, and full private. The half and half schools and the full private are mostly Catholic. Most of the schools don't have enough rooms in the school for each teacher to have their own classroom so instead, the students remain in the same room throughout the day while different teachers travel around, having to lug their own materials with them. Some of the schools gear their students towards University while others are vocational. All schools require uniforms which is why the students are refered to as penguins. Last year, students went on strike and demanded reforms to the school systems, it was called the Penguino revolt. The government consented to the changes, but nothing as of now has been done. They warned us that if nothing changes, it might occur again. It wasn't violent, there just wasn't school for several days.
Wednesday was a day of revival for almost everyone. We were broken up into groups to visit our first schools and we were like movie stars. The school we visited on Wednesday was a vocational school with three different electives along with their basic classes, sewing, cooking and babysitting. Very few of their students make it to University from this school. English is important for the country because of their booming tourism and if they want to compete in the international market it is a necessary asset. Many of their English teachers don't even speak English. Teachers make pitiful wages here and the only way they can afford to travel to an English speaking country is if they receive a scholarship or if they marry someone with money. There were two teachers at our school, a young woman who spoke well, and a nice old gentleman who made a concerted effort, but seemed as capable in English as I am in Spanish. There were a few girls in the class who spoke English very well and spoke for their classmates. This school was an all girls and after our tea and cake break and our introduction to their school, recess began. From that moment on, I couldn't hear the sound my own voice, let alone any of the many girls who were trying to practice their English. Girls were screaming from every which direction, but they all seemed to be facing the same direction. There were 12 people in our group including James, the tall and handsome Australian and Cameron a very tall and brawny black guy. Chile has a little diversity, but I haven't seen any black people since I have been here except for Cameron and Cameron is impossible to miss without being the only black person in almost all Chile. The screaming girls were chasing Cameron and James taking their camera phones out and taking pictures. Which ever way they turned, a mob followed them. It was a hilarious scene, one that I will always carry with me. When we got back to the hostel to share our experiences we realized that every school was very different but everyone had the feeling of being movie stars! We were ready to learn how to teach so we could help these schools with so little resources and English teachers who aren't really familiar with the subject that they teach.

Boston and New York!

Boston and New York!

Arriving into Boston was a giant push into reality that the rest of the world experiences a 'real' season called winter. Before we left Texas, we experienced a beautiful week of 70 degree weather. It was obvious that winter had made it's last grab for stablitity and had desperatly tried some attempts at swirling cold air, but spring had grabbed it by it's legs and not so kindly, showed it the door. Winter had officially left the building, and spring was showing it's beautiful, floral, sunny face.
Stepping off the airplane into Boston, I was immediatly thrown into confusion and pain. Instead of a wonderful warm welcome, Boston, unkindly threw icicles into my exposed skin. Spring was blossoming in Texas, but Boston was still under the evil ice princess' thumb. With wind chill it was negative 6 degrees! My amazing husband, thankfully had not been so naive as I, and thought to pack our scarf and hat close to the edge of our baggage. Bundled in nothing but a thin shirt, a light jacket, a scarf and a hat, we battled with the cold and our impossible luggage alike. Both battles were fierce, and I almost gave out to the cold waiting for the bus for over 20 minutes at an unprotected bus stop. Lorie, Kyle and I huddled like peguins, sharing our body heat and using our backs as shields to the unrelenting wind, but it was still so cold, I considered crossing the streets to the heated stores, but that would risk my missing the bus, so I toughed it out, but not without much wimpering and complaining. Poor Kyle had to struggle with our huge cumbersome trunk. Dragging it up subway stairs, and 4 flights of stairs to Lorie and David's apartment.
Although the trip started out a constant struggle, the rest of our time spent in Boston, was nothing but lovely. Lorie and David were amazing hosts. Their apartment is very small with a bedroom acting as their living room, dining room and entertainment room. They have very little storage space, but it was so amazing what they were able to do with a little creativity. Their kitchen was obviously very used and very loved. We had a wonderful home-cooked dinner almost every night. At one time we had 6 people staying in their studio apartment. It was great fun eating, laughing and sharing with friends. Lorie and David had another friend ,Mike, coming in to town the day after we arrived. He was interviewing for an art school in Boston (which he was accepted into). And Jennifer came in for the weekend to explore Boston with us, making us 6. We went to a new-age concert which was interesting, we explored the Boston Fine Arts Museum and walked the walking tour which included a really old grave yard holding legends such as Ben Franklin's parents, Sam Adams, Paul Reviere,and John Hancock. Each gravestone was nicely decorated with a flying skull which was kind of creepy. We ate New England clam chowder, oyster po-boys, and discussed the hardships of the orignal settlers and their amazing ablity to survive the harsh winter (if they survived). Overall the trip was beatiful, relaxing and a wonderful start to our adventure.
Getting to New York was simpler than I imagined. We hopped on a greyhound bus for $15 and traveled for 4 hours. Jennifer met us at the bus station and helped us with our bags to her beautiful apartment. I was expecting something much smaller for a New York apartment, and granted her room is the size of a closet, but the living and dinning area is spacy and full of natural light. The doorman was always friendly and properly New York like. Tiggy greeted us with her incredible loving and playful spirit. It is amazing that Tiggy has Aurora genes, they are so unlike the other. (Oh Aurora, how I miss her!) We walked Tiggy every morning because Jennifer had to get up early for work, but I was amazed at the lack of places to go to the bathroom. So many people have dogs, but there is no grass available to soil. The sidewalk seemed to suit Tiggy just fine, but I didn't enjoy picking up the brown gifts she left in her path. Tiggy is a bad walker, very demanding, pulling herself sick and barking at anything with a pulse, but overall, as long as she wasn't outside, she was wonderful to be around. Every morning Kyle and I went down to the corner to eat bagels which were wonderful and covered in cream cheese. Jennifer also took us to a concert which I must admit was better than the first. We explored the Met and some of Central Park. We ventered to the Bronx Zoo which was much better than I imagined. Kyle and I cooked spagetti with shrimp one evening and I was astounded at the lack of spices in their apartment. Jen seems to consist on grapefruit and oatmeal.
It was obvious that New York was not ready for us to leave because as we were attempting our departure, the worst winterstorm of the season attacked New York and left us waiting and wondering if our flight to Chile would be canceled or just delayed. Luckily, it was only delayed for four hours. By the time we recieved our meal, it was 11:30 in the evening and we hadn't eaten for nearly 12 hours. My stomach cramped as soon as I scarfed down the airplane food and I quickly fell asleep. The plane ride was 10 hours and I slept for 8. I woke up just in time for breakfast and then we landed in Buenos Aires, but of course we had missed our connecting flight. We then had to wait another 4 hours in that airport. After much boredom we got on the plane to our destination, Santiago, but we were in for a rude surprise. Even though I had e-mailed in advance to warn the Ministry that we would not be at the airport at the original time, no one was there to meet us. We waited for 30 minutes and finally realized that we had no one meeting us. I was honestly feeling two conflicting emotions, one of fear and one of pure anger. We were not given the address of the hostel we were staying at, we were assured a ride from the airport. I went looking for a computer with luck, but Kyle had better luck. He found a computer looked in my email and found Stephanie's number. A very kind Chilean man called the number for us and arranged a taxi to the hostel. It was not a good starting off point, but as we continually learn every day, one must have lots of patience in Chile.

For more pictures: copy and paste this. There are two seperate links here.

http://utexas.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2324736&l=51c20&id=7908592

http://utexas.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2322547&l=c1cf0&id=7908592

The Joy of Packing

cking, Packing, my favorite activity in all of the world. I can´t tell you how much I love packing. I love it almost as much as the screeching metal wheels on metal tracks of old and rusty subways attempting to stop for travelers. It is music to my ears, just as packing rejouvanates my senses! :) So getting to Boston was much more difficult than I anticipated. Kyle and I had been attempting to gather and buy everything we would need for our 8 month trip in the months ahead, and we placed them all together so that we would have a much easier time packing. Wednesday was the day before we were to leave, and also the day of my final exam in mi courso de español. Arriving late at the house, we decided a nap was much needed if our patience was to continue along a productive path. After our nap we began the joyful activity of packing. If you can`t tell by now, I am using sarcasim because I abhore packing, however, I should note that my husband is inlove with packing and deeply enjoys the all of the activities including the organization aspect. His boyscout-ness gurgles to the surface as I am pacing around the room, wondering why I have chosen to leave the country forcing myself to perform the tortuous activity of packing. We began at 5:00 in the afternoon, left for a good ´ol last Texas meal at Rudy´s at 7 pm, made a last trip to Walmart for essentials, and continued to pack into the wee morning hours. I estimated our finishing time to be at 2 am, but I was very wrong. We did not finish until 5 am. I blame the slowness on Kyle because of his slow and methodical pace, however I also blame him for the thouroughness of our packing. He may be slow, but he is an excellent packer and thinks of many things that I do not, such as shoelaces, carabeners and a medical kit. However things like our video camera and spanish book were misplaced before the explosion (packing) happened, and we therefore left without our magic movie maker :(
Because we went to bed at 5 am, we only got 1 hour of sleep because we had to be out of the door by 6:45 am to drive to Austin to recieve our Typhoid shots that were scheduled for 8:15 am before our 10:50 am flight in Austin. However we did not expect to hit traffic so far South of Austin and therefore had to cancel our shots opting not to miss our first flight on our long adventure!
We arrived at the airport, and had to pay an extra $20 for exceeding the weight limit and went on our way. We were actually quite pleased at only paying $20 because part of what kept us up so late was figuring out how heavy our bags were and what was acceptable for each individual airline. After rearranging, and transferring many heavy items to our carry-ons, Kyle made an executive decision to remove his sweaters, which weighed 10 lbs by themselves, to save us mucho dinero. He reasoned that Chile is famous for it´s wool, and clothing is often cheaper, so it wouldn´t be too much of a hassle to buy new Chilean sweaters in Chile.
The flight was lovely, however we couldn´t sleep. I assume our adrenaline took over our souls and infused our veins with temporary energy!

Aurora meets Santa

Kyle and I volunteered last Sunday with the Humane Society for their pictures with Santa fundraiser. Our job was to distract the doggies/bunnies/hampsters into looking at the camera. We decided this was just not something Aurora could miss out on. Here are some of her cute pictures!

Kyle's Italian Experience

So since I just posted my paper, I thought it would be fitting to post Kyle's as well. So enjoy... I know I did!

My Italian Experience
Beginning this journey was something of a Herculean task. Vanessa and I knew that we wanted to study abroad. The question was how in the world we were going to be able to afford it, academically as well as financially. She was in her last 2 semesters of school and I still had some major requirements to fulfill to graduate so it is nothing short of a miracle that we were able to come. That said, it was undoubtedly divine intervention that brought us here. I am increasingly grateful to have been given such a wonderful opportunity to have experienced such a place with such people as these. We all had our ups and downs but even the downs seemed somewhat higher than they are back home. There is so much here that I am going to miss but I will never forget so many things as they have hit a part of me that will never let go of them. It’s hard to put into words the feelings I have for this incredible journey. In a word this trip has been…enchanting. Italy has a magical way of making every care in the world seem somehow insignificant. Time continues and things keep growing and the best you can do is squeeze the grapes when they are ripe and enjoy the cheese when the milk goes bad. There will always be another season. As things wrap up I feel a sense of responsibility ominously hanging over my head and while I know that many more wonderful things lie ahead in my life, I can’t help but feel it would be easier in Italy. I will miss the streets with few cars and the innumerous trees that have spread like wildfire through the valley. The vespas, the truckcycles, the gelato, the trendy teenagers hanging out at the playground, the local drunks staring at us at Rogiro’s, the pizza, the pasta, Rome, Florence, Arrezzo and the jousting, Sienna, Cortona, Orvieto, Montepucciano, Piensa, Pisa, Cinque Terre, scarfs, sunglasses, illegal venders parading through the crowds. Wild boar, gnocchi, bruschetta, olive oil, balsamic, and of course Santa Chiara with it’s hard bread that badly needs salt, it’s stinky bathrooms that you can squeeze into on good days, the somewhat functioning internet, the ping pong table that sometimes has a ball lying around, the TV room that is seldom unoccupied, and the studios that are never unoccupied, and the dead tree that stole our courtyard from us for so long it hurt. The turtles stuck in their corner, the laundry that never gets dry, the wonderful cooks and cleaning ladies that never get mad to our faces. The ever helpful, all knowing RC’s, the incredibly gracious Paolo and Garnet, and the cool but sometimes moody Marco. Above all else, I will miss our people, my new familia. While we all are going back to the same place, I feel that things will never be the same as they were here. It will always be just short of Italy. I am taking with me broadened horizons, having been instilled with a new found appreciation for art and architecture that I may not have found with lesser gods than the ones that taught me here. Wink! I will always see things in a new light now that I know what has come before. There is nothing greater than to learn from those that love what they teach. If there is anything I would change it would be to have more time. It goes by so fast here. The trips were probably the best thing about the entire experience. It felt so nice to have experienced Italy enthusiasts as our guides. I feel that the most valuable difference this experience will have made in my life is to make me so much more receptive and infinitely more interested in other cultures and has made me stunningly more aware of how other fellow humans view us Americans and the importance of that perspective. I know feel compelled to spread this knowledge and instill in others the same since of unity that I experienced here. Am I a better citizen of the world because of this course? Undoubtedly, but not without a feeling of cynicism. I’m not very confident that other fellow Americans are capable of achieving the sense of responsibility that I have acquired. Call me crazy but I’m not quite sure we care enough. If nothing else I would hope that all who travel throughout the world will take back home with them a sense of caring about the rest of the world. Without that I truly fear for our future. Nothing in this world is worse than a society of apathetic ignorants. At least one American is coming home ready to take ‘em all on!

Italy paper

I have been thinking alot lately about Italy. It doesn't seem possible but a year has gone by since we were there. How did time fly by so quickly? There are days when my day seems to last an eternity yet, somehow those incredibly marathon long days have multiplied into the equivalent of a year. As I was reminiscing, I came across the final paper I wrote for the conclusion of our journey. It is a short culmination of the lessons I learned while in Italy. Reading the paper a year later touched my heart in a different way than how it did when I wrote it. The words fished out feelings and thoughts that had taken a siesta in the dark and small pools of my mind. It seems as if they were drowning and demanding for recovery. So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

My Italian Experience
Italy, oh Italy, how I love thee. I am twenty-two years of age and my life up to this point has been a series of spectacular events. Italy has been amazing in so many ways that there aren’t even words to try to describe my emotions connected with this experience. Because there is so much to talk about, it is difficult to narrow down the selection, but I will save you the torture of reading a book. The topics I am addressing are my renewed faith in the kindness of others, and the new eyes I have acquired because of Italy.

Italy puts your brain into overactive mode. There are so many things to look at and so many places to rest your eyes. Italy is full of new and exciting sounds and sights. When I first arrived here, I didn’t think I would ever stop looking at the mountains. I wrote a question in my journal, “Do Italians know how blessed they are? They are surrounded by this beauty on a day to day basis. Do they take it for granted or do they marvel at its majesty and greatness on a daily basis? Does it go unappreciated by its own people?” I am always surprised when everything new and novel turns to everyday and ordinary. There were days that I would pass the view of the valley and not even look out at the many shades of green on the fairy inhabited hills. When I do look at the landscape, I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see if it will disappear as a figment of my imagination. But my imagination is not as brilliant as this beauty so I know it is real. The weather might have had some hand in my negligence as well, but it is not an excuse. It is so easy to take beauty for granted when it is no longer new. Appreciating life takes energy and I don’t always remember to fork over that energy into that category of my life.
The churches and ruins were absolutely amazing as well. I nearly squealed with a child’s vibrancy and gaiety at the sight of the first Florence church we pranced into. How could it be that a building hundreds of years old could create such ardor? I had never before seen a building so beautiful and so carefully crafted and loved. The simple, quickly constructed, American buildings we create for ourselves in comparison to the incredibly ornate and brilliantly architected Italian buildings are like comparing a McDonald’s Tonka truck toy with a Mercedes Monster truck at a Monster Rally. I cannot get over how much time, patience and love have been put into many of these buildings. The art adorning the walls is often amazing in itself, but when combined with the grandeur of the architecture and the overall emotional response the space creates, it is enough to give one the chills.

One other thing that has surprised me has been the kindness of others. I am going to tell you the story of how we got to Italy to help give a better understanding of this kindness that I speak of. We arrived in Florence late on the night of the 27th of August. We didn’t know how to get to Castiglion Fiorentino; in fact we thought we would have to take a bus. We went to ask in the information area and this wonderful woman who spoke English extremely well offered to show us how to get there. When I say that she was going to show us, I mean she rode on the train, got off where we had a connection and then said goodbye to take the train back to Florence. There had been some mix up with the trains and there were about 8 Americans who were very confused as to what to do, so she went way out of her call of duty to help some silly Americans tourists. Would I be that generous with my time? How many people are there out in the world who are so willing to lend a kind hand? I was in shock and, I couldn’t express enough gratitude. After she left, the fear of getting lost crept back into my body. We jumped on the next train (it was less jumping and more dragging our exhausted bodies and heavy luggage onto the train). The light of joviality that the woman’s charity had lit started to fade as we quickly realized not only did we not know where to get off, but we couldn’t see out the window. My stomach started to nervously dance and gurgle out of fear and anxiety, my head started to scream “What are you doing in a country where you can not even communicate a simple question?!” I had been anxious all day about this issue, but the bubble had risen to the top and was ready to burst. The only other people on the train were this older Italian couple who spoke English as well as I speak Italian. It turned out, that even without the use of language, we were able to communicate effectively enough. Once again, someone was charitable and kind to us. Every stop that the train made, they would stare out the window with us to help decipher the foreign Italian city names in the dark. They would call out the name at every stop and speak encouraging Italian words which I didn’t understand, but made me fell better nevertheless. Once we found the correct stop we said our goodbyes and departed ways. The fear gurgled to life again as I realized that we didn’t know how to get to Santa Chiara. We made our way up to the bar closest to the train station. We had been traveling since 6:00 am that morning and it was now close midnight and we had only eaten one meal that day, breakfast. I am not actually what time it was, but I do know it was very late, I was tired of lugging luggage around, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I sat down on one of the chairs at the bar, while Kyle attempted his broken Italian with the bar tender. He came back and said, “I have good news and bad news. Santa Chiara is only about a kilometer away, the bad news is it up hill all the way.” I wanted to cry. The exhaustion and hunger had taken over and I didn’t think I could make it up the hill. I think the man saw my desperation, and offered to give us, perfect strangers, a ride.
How many times were we offered help by perfect strangers in this country? It was a miracle we arrived in one piece and if hadn’t been for the help of the Italians, I don’t know what would have happened to us that night. My point with this story is this; I have always had faith in the goodness of people, but I had started to question that faith. Our introduction to Italy blew that faith into full force and I will never question it again. Italy is a country with good reason to dislike America at this moment in time, yet perfect strangers were able to see past our American accents and treat us as human beings. If only we could all learn to treat each other like these Italians treated us, this world would be in much better shape.

I am thankful for what Italy has given to me. It has given me new eyes to look through. My adventure side hasn’t lessened, but increased. I know feel a desperation because of the limited time and money I have in this life and the desire to explore the world to its limits. Italy has only given me a taste of what the rest of the world has to offer, and it was mighty flavorful. But not only has my desire for travels increased but it has given me new friends. The Santa Chiara family will always be with me in my heart for as long as I live. I will remember Italy with overabounding love. Thank you for giving us this opportunity to experience the magic of the Italian experience.

Made up e-card

So my half sister Rachel had an accident last week. Although her car is in car heaven, she has not been seriously damaged and walked away with only a couple bruises, aches and pains. She wrote the family asking for some cheering up and maybe an e-card, because car wrecks have a way of making a beautiful day real ugly real fast. Somehow, however, I couldn't find any free e-cards, maybe I didn't look hard enough, but in my brilliance, or insanity whichever you choose, I decided to make one up. Some days my words and imagery flow freely from my brain directly onto the paper, while other days I have to use a jack hammer to chizzle my thoughts from the wreckage that is my brain and then put all the broken pieces back together like a jigsaw puzzle. And I should say that I suck at puzzles! Anways, this morning was one without the heavy machinery, and I liked the final product so I am posting it for all the world to see, all three of you!

Rachel, I am sorry to hear about your accident! I couldn't find a free e-card to send you, so just imagine pictures with this made up e-card:

Imagine a beautiful green land, like one you would find in Ireland. The grass is sparkling with dew, the trees are jeweled with water droplets that glimmer in the moonlight. A fawn is grazing not too far from you and an angelic, delicate ringing sound dances in your ear. It's notes are kindred to tiny little wind chimes flowing in the wind. But these wind chimes are making purposeful notes in layered harmony, fashioning music not meant for this world. As the sonance increases in intensity, a fairy flys past your ear and playfully pulls on your loose strands of hair that have been waltzing in the air to the magical music. Her touch sends surges of energy through your body like static electricity, but there is no pain, only residues of love and hope. All of a sudden..Don Don Don A T-Rex comes storming through this pristine wonderland, trampling on all that is good and beautiful, but as you gawk at this archaic animal you notice that his tree trunk sized legs seem to be slowing. Has he seen you? You hold your breath, and stand as still as possible, hoping beyond all hope that he hasn't seen you. Your eyes haven't deceived you, his enormous body has halted abruptly right in front of you. He is not facing you, but you can see that his face is contorted as if in concentration. Suddenly a putrid stench encompasses the entirety of your nostrils and a huge mound of dung defiles this magnificent land. T-Rex storms off in pursuit of an imaginary adversary. The contamination is piled 4 feet high and it's stench could kill a horse, but it's not a horse that is standing right next to it, its you! But look at the bright side, at least he didn't poop on you!

Crap Happens!

But at least you have friends and family that love you and will always be there for you. So this is my e-hug to you! I hope that your week gets better!

Love Vanessa

That really goes out to all of you. I want you to know that if you are ever in need of a shoulder (even if it is low and boney) or an ear, I will always be there for you. Have a good day, and if you find crap, just push it aside and find your silver lining! (If only that advice was easy to put into practice!!)

Driving Mrs. Grandmother

I am going to give you my driving saga. Well, I don't know if it could be defined as a saga, maybe a boring tale of epic proportions. It began by Kyle and I driving up to Lubbock to bring Grandmother back to San Antonio. On the way up to Lubbock we listened to a book on tape, "The Nanny Diaries" which was terrific and hilarious. It was kind of like the "The Devil Wears Prada" expect toned down and with a Nanny story rather than a fashion magazine's executive assistant. We finished it right before we arrived in Lubbock. The next day we spent working on grandmother's to-do list, including bathing the dirtiest Athena ever, fixing e-mail, screwing in light bulbs etc. Later Kyle and I took little Aurora on a walk to see the Geese at the duck pond. (We call it the duck pond because most of the year ducks are the masters of the water, until the geese migrate in for the winter re-taking command.) Her knees were working better so we figured she might want to use her legs some. (we had been carrying her everywhere.) She really enjoyed the walk and was wary of the Geese. While we were at the pond, feeding the multitude of water birds, at least 8 flocks of Geese in V formations flew overhead. Well, when I say V formation, I really mean they attempted a V formation but really would make a lopsided W. We tried coaching them in the correct letters of the alphabet, but alas our advise was rudely ignored. Kyle wisely warned that we should keep our mouths shut should an unwarranted excrement fall from the sky. When the Geese would fly over, all of the birds in the water would squawk, or whatever official sound they are said to make, as if to say hello to their fellows. It was quite funny. After a while, we found this novel event lacking in lengthy entertainment value so we decided to walk home. I really felt like exercising but we didn't want to walk Aurora too long, and after we got home, I was bitten by the lazy bug and didn't venture out again. At least until we went to see our movie"Accepted". We enjoyed it for the most part partially because we went in with such low expectations, it wasn't difficult to meet and even exceed our expectations. The movie was about a bunch of kids who didn't get into college so they made one up and then people started showing up for classes. It was pretty amusing, absurd and silly, but entertaining. I was just glad it wasn't one of those movies that hurts to watch like most of Julia Stiles movies!
Driving back to Lubbock was an adventure as well. Kyle had bought several books on tapes to supply our lengthy drive. After Nanny Diaries we had "'Tis" a memoir from the "Author of Angela's Ashes" and old comedy shows including Bob Hope etc. From our last experience driving with Grandmother and having to endure awful language from the terrific book ( not being sarcastic, it really was a wonderful story) "A long way down" we wanted to try extra hard to pick literature that wouldn't be offensive to Grandmother. "A long way down" used profane language, including the F word, a lot. It was an uncomfortable situation. The selections were limited however. Kyle tried two different libraries and then Half Price Books. I suggested a classic book, but of course they were all out except for the books I had already read. Our first choice was the old clean cut comedy shows however, the sound quality of the old comedy shows was bad and my ears were tired of straining so hard to understand the words. After listening to two of these thirty minute selections we switched to the memoir. I thought it would be a safe bet, but I was wrong. The author himself didn't use profane language much, but the people around him did. Especially when he entered the army. After that progression in his life, everything went down hill, screwing was a hot topic of the other solider boys and clean language didn't seem acceptable in the army according to his recollections. I could feel my face getting red as I sat and listened to this story that I would at any other time found humorous. Why do people have to talk about screwing in front of my grandmother, can't they see it makes me feel uncomfortable! The irony of this story is, that Kyle and I continued to listen to it on the way to the coast after dropping Grandmother off and on the way back. That entire six hours was very clean, without talk of screwing or profane language, however as soon as we started to drive Grandmother back to Austin with us, it rared up again, but worse. Maybe not worse, but with more details such as "the nipples are the keys to opening up a girls legs!" It is a curse that I cannot escape. I am just going to accept that my grandmother will always be exposed to ungrandmotherly language and description while in the car with me!
Oh, and also, like in Angela's Ashes he brought up his eye problem. I don't know what it is about eyes or why distortions of the eyes make me feel queasy, when decapitation in movies doesn't even have that effect, but eyes do have that effect and I don't know how to control the overwhelming sensitivity to eye conditions. He had some type of eye disease that caused blood shot redness of the eyes and puss to seep out. He was very embarrassed by his eyes and therefore was too shy to talk to girls. He talked about it for a while, and I could not stop squirming in my seat. I shut my eyes and tried to visualize a happy place, but my stomach was not fooled and reacted quickly to the mention of his eyes. YUCK!
Driving to Lubbock is not my favorite activity, but having my Grandmother down for Thanksgiving is worth it!

Pictures from Halloween

Haloween events

The Saturday before Halloween, Kyle and I went to a costume party. We had a really difficult time figuring out what to be. After dicussing our past costumes we discovered that in all of our years of being a couple, we have never once done a couple costume so we made sure this year we had to correct that mistake. We did a lot of research trying to find good, but easy costumes and we found some really funny silly ideas. Where a ball cap and tie a leaf to the rim. When someone asks what you are, blow on the leaf. ( leaf blower) We considered being gum on the bottom of a shoe. Dress in all pink and tie a shoe to your head. hee hee. We ended up going for being a painter and a master piece. I was the masterpiece and he was the painter. I bought a cheap cardboard frame and kyle painted a Picasso type painting on my face. He then wore a barrette (sp) and painted a gotee (sp) on his face. I think we made a good creative couple, but we were by far not the most creative there. There was a couple of guys who had made elaborate costumes. One guy was french fries, another was a milkshake, another was a controller for an old Nintendo and yet another was a meat wad. We spoke with french fry dude and he was an aerospace engineer working on his Ph.D. Who knew they had so much time on their hands, those Ph.D students! The party was fun, it wasn't great, not a whole lot of people I knew, only Italy friends and a other friends of Anne-Marie (the hostess), but I was glad to go to a party anyhow! She had made cute favors for the Halloween spirit. Cookies that were made to look like fingers and a cake that was all crumbled up in a kitty litter box (obviously a new and unused one).

Aurora has had an eventful week. We had to take her to the vet yesterday. Monday we noticed her chewing on her paw more furiously than normal and when we stopped her we noticed blood. From the looks of her paw it looked as if she was starting to chew off her thumbnail and it was bleeding somewhat heavily. It was not life-threatening but a little scary. We put neosporin on the wound and wrapped it up with a band aide and tape so she couldn't chew her way to it. The next day I took her to the vet, and the vet said she thought Aurora had caught her nail on something and broken it to the quic (sp) and she was working on removing it when we found her. The vet removed the nail, gave her pain medication and antibiotics to stop an infection. She also wrapped up her little paw with a Halloween bandage, and it had this cute black cat on it. It is really a cute/ sad sight to see! Gus, the cat at the vet, also decided to flirt with Aurora, maybe it was the bandage that peeked his interest?

Last tale to tell! Halloween night, Kyle and I were not sure what our plans were. At first, some friends, were supposed to come up to Austin, from SA to go to one it's many haunted houses and then walk sixth street. But homework took priority and so they had to cancel. Everyone involved was bummed, but such is the life of a student. :( Anyways so Kyle and I decided to spend the evening watching scary movies in our living room. However, earlier that day, I wrote an email to my book club asking if anyone was interested in doing anything for Halloween. Everyone seemed interested but no one had suggestions except to all watch a scary movie. An hour before we are to get together, someone suggested another idea, "The Enchanted Forest" Is supposed to be a forest with lots of scary things in it and then there was supposed to be this pirate show. So.... we decided, "what the hell! It's Halloween!" Kyle insisted that this was an event that we needed to dress up for, so I painted whiskers on my face, wore a pink cheetah shirt and cat ears. Kyle wore his mickey mouse hoody towel. ( he is so adorable in that thing!) We were pretty excited. I didn't know if people were going to be jumping out from behind the trees or what, but there were just things like giant plastic spiders with spider webs and other unmoving inanimate objects strategically placed in the woods. Kyle was right about the costumes, but no one else in our group wore a costume, so if we had wanted we could have just gone in normal clothing. The Enchanted Forest was interesting, but lacking. Walking along the path we found people hanging out around a camp fire and after crossing the bridge we found our seats on the floor of the forest waiting for the pirate show to start. The show didn't start for at least thirty minutes after it was supposed to and then when it did start, I wished it would stop for the pain of embarrassment of seeing those poor people who had no idea what a good performance was. It was really a pitiful show, with a bunch of people dressed up as pirates, acting drunk and playing with fire. The first act was a man blowing fire, which I have seen before, and is pretty cool, but there was this boat hanging above the stage which seemed about to catch on fire. Next was the twirling fire batons which was also pretty impressive except it took her at least five minutes to show anything really impressive and then another ten minutes to continue the same tricks over and over from different angles. Next were two guys who were twirling fire on ropes of some sort, pretending to hit one another, but then actually catching the other on fire because they had gotten a little too close. And then a tree caught fire and they had to take care of that little accident. Mind you we were in a forest! Next was a hula hoop fire girl and she was pretty good too but she also included some bizarre dancing around her hula hoop and other unimpressive and unnecessary moves. After they announced the next round to be suspension and bondage, we decided to leave. I believe the only way of enjoying that show would be to be stoned or drunk (which many people were)! I wish I could have gotten my money back, $10, but at least we all got a good laugh out of it. I mean really, it is great when people set each other on fire! :(

Trials of marriage: A bamboozeled mess!

Laying lethargically in bed on a very lazy mid-day Sunday, Kyle looked at me and asked a question that has no definite answer. Kyle and I talked yesterday for the better half of the day. The question covered the much avoided topic of our immediate future. It is a question I hear a lot, but never have an answer. What are we going to do when Kyle graduates in December? Where will we go? What will we do? Will we continue to live where we are? Kyle will of course have one more Spanish class to take but he may take that class at any community college leaving us with no obligation to stay in any specific city. My advertising consulting job is both in San Antonio and Austin, but truly it could be from anywhere I please. We volleyed ideas and opinions from under the covers and uncovered many more questions wanting answers. The more we talked the more we confused ourselves. The whole situation and conversation was discomforting. I used to know what I wanted, but now I am not so sure. Well, that isn’t entirely accurate because I still have dreams and goals I just don’t know when I am to achieve them. When you put two ambitious people with different hopes and dreams together in a marriage you get a bamboozled mess! It’s like throwing two necklace chains in a jewelry box, shaking it up a bit, and pulling the two chains out with new knots and twists, not knowing where one starts and one begins. When I married Kyle, I knew I would be making sacrifices to conjoin our lives to one. I knew this willingly and accepted it because all though I am making sacrifices, they don’t have to be permanent deaths to my dreams, only sleeping pills to wake another day. But now I am in limbo waiting for my next door to open, hoping it is somewhere I would like to be. Kyle asked me what I want and where I want to be in a year from now, and it bothers me that I cannot answer that question. I can answer the question with what I would really like, but not what is actually going to happen. Don’t ask me what the conclusion of this half-day discussion was because I don’t know. I felt like progress was made, but no final decisions have been planted for permanent growth. Our life’s future is uncertain, but at least I know one thing assuredly, we will always have each other to complicate the other’s life.

Why get married?

What does marriage mean? Why do people get married? What is wrong with dating for the rest of ones life? I met a man the other day who seemed to hold that philosophy on relationships. He was an engaged man, but had been so for 15 years. He asked the woman he was dating if she would marry him, slipped a ring on her finger, and remained in limbo till the present day. Obviously the commitment is there, but he is happy in the arrangement they are in and really has no intention of taking his fiancé down an aisle. “Why?” I asked him. His answer to my question was the same as my question, “why should I?” “We have been living together most of our engagement, I make her happy, I am her prince charming, and she is happy, why do we have to get married?” What is the importance of marriage? What’s wrong with just vowing to each other to be together. I asked what her feelings of her perpetual engagement was, and his response was “She must be happy she has stayed with me this long.” If I were that fiancé, I don’t think that I could have handled such a confusing situation. But why would I struggle with that state of affairs. What is so important about being married? Legally, this couple is married by common law, but he chooses to refer to her as his fiancé. He said it was always a great conversation piece. Statistically speaking, couples who do not get married and stay under the label of live-in boyfriend/girlfriend have a much higher chance of splitting apart. There is something about that written contract that solidifies a couple from feeling uneasy about the commitment to the other. The words we use define us in a way. “I am married,” for example is phrase that changes people’s percpective of me. I am automatically older, or maybe I am silly and impulsive. Whatever their reaction, I have changed somewhat in their eyes.
For me, I chose to marry Kyle because I wanted to take that last step to solidify our commitment to one another. As I said in my vows, I have been married in heart for a long time, but we wanted the world to know our love and passion for one another was not a fleeting crush but true and lasting love. We know that marriage is hard, but the benefits greatly outweigh the labor. I love being married. There is so much security in knowing that there is a person in my life that will love and stand by me the rest of my days. Using words like “husband, wife , married, and Rogers” is still challenging, but I am slowly learning to use these familiar yet foreign words. Life is like a disorienting walk uphill through a blizard, not knowing where the top really lies, but at least with marriage, one knows that their hand will never be empty.

Updates and Thoughts

This is just a little random update of my thoughts and whats going on in my life. Don't expect any profound literature or breakthroughs! I still plan on writting extremly long, verbose essays for you, but I will do little updates as well.

We found flees on Aurora. Dana who was babysitting her gave her a bath and a week later she is already dirty. Aurora is so cute, I just can't get over it. She has that precious look of pleading and/or frightened look asking if I am going to desert her. She is always getting things on her face. Today I looked at her and she had a little white fuzz ball on her nose, and she was completly oblivious. She has gotten into the habit of following me around everywhere. She has always done this to an extent, but not as obsessively as she currently is now. She used to stay in her comfortable position if I left the room and wait five minutes to see if I would come back, now she has to know where I am after 30 seconds. These dogs become so attached to their owners. Jennifer was telling me that when she left Tiggy (Aurora's grandaughter) in New York with her roomates the weekend of my wedding, Tiggy was so depressed and refused to eat. Also, not used to sleeping in her crate, after a night of isolation, walked around the apartment whimpering holding her stuffed animal refusing to share. Ambrosia (Tiggy's sister from a different litter) is way worse than Aurora. She is always one step behind Dana. If Dana gets up from the couch, Ambrosia jumps down to follow mommy. I wonder how many times that dog has been stepped on because she is always underfoot. When mommy leaves the apartment, Ambrosia will wander around whimpering and crying like a little baby. These dogs are the equivalent of our babies, but sometimes their obsessive attachment issues worry me. It's as if they are afraid of abandonment.

I've made a discovery, I am a dreamer. No really, so I was writting my biography for Nancy's family history book. I started to reread what I had written and I came to the realization that over half of the stories I told were dreams that I had as a child. For instance, I used to dream that I had a Barbie car, and could drive it in the make-believe kiddie lane located next to the adult lane. I wanted to be able to drive myself to school and to the toy store. I also dreamt that I had a baby on the playground. It was during recess, and the jungle gym was turned into the hospital, a fellow class member was my doctor. After recess was over, which was only 15 min. we went to stand in line, and I came running with my new baby. The teacher unphased and excited for me, excused me to the nurses office. The strange thing about this dream is that I didn't really like dolls. I say that because, I would make the excuse that it was an overdramtized version of a little girl who wanted a more interactive doll to play with, but I never found dolls very interesting. I don't really have an explaination of this strange dream except to say, maybe I wanted a living playmate. I don't know, but the point of these examples were to explain how I lived in a dream world. I have few memories that don't involve dreams. I wonder if there is some psychological disorder that could explain this phenomenon.

We are going to San Antonio this weekend. Leslie and Peter are coming in (I don't remember their reason) but we always love spending time with them. We plan on going to our old beloved high school, Mac. Well actually we are just going to a football game. We want to support our little adopted sister, Diana! I swear we have become her groupies. My mom also has a friend in SA with a penthouse which we have been invied to tour. Very exciting stuff!

ok well thats enough of an update for now! Sianara!