Vacation, all I ever wanted

Thinking about the next two weeks is giving me little twitches, so I decided that I needed a little vacation.

The wonderful thing about Chile is that you are always close to the beach. When your country is shape like a snake, and lines the coast, the ocean is always just a two hour drive. Or bus ride. I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you about Chile's (or Santiago's, I should say) fantastic bus system:

1) You can take a trip on a fancy, semi-cama (half-bed) bus for less than $10. Buses always leave on time. They will leave without you. However, they will also stop if run after them screaming and holding an ice cream pop. Of course, ice cream pop is optional.

2) You can drink on the bus. In fact, you could have a romantic dinner for two in your semi-cama seats. I suggest: Roast chicken, steamed carrots, chocolate chip cookies and a nice carmenere in a nalgene bottle. I am all class.

3) The bus station is the absolute greatest place in the world to get to know the locals. You can get to know some very colorful phrases about the female anatomy. This trip is just such a learning experience.

A few more travel tips:

4) When approached by an old paco(carabiniero)/young paco team for a traffic violation, chances are you are not going to talk your way out of it. Especially if you speak perfect Chilean spanish. And are 6 feet tall and look like a Mormon. And don't have breasts. If you are going to break any traffic laws in Chile, its best to be a girl and not speak Spanish. Trust.

5) When in a Chilean bar (and this is very important) always assume that one golpeado of tequilla is worth two American shots. This is infinitely important when trying to adhere to the "three tequillas, too many tequillas" rule. Also, just because Luke's mom says its ok, you still shouldn't drink tequilla out of a tumbler.

6) Dancing is always ok.

7) Always Always Always ask a neighbor for keys, if you find that yours are not working. This is infinitely important, and doing so can avoid situations like this:

Careful viewing above the above photo will alert you to the fact that the fence next to me is padlocked, as was every other door to our little house in Algorrobo (a ocean-side resort town, slightly more down to earth than Vina del Mar, where we spent the day). You'd think that three good friends could figure out some way to open the gate (or turn on the gas, but that's another thing altogether). We couldn't. You know who could? Juan, our neighbor. Of course, he didn't tell us this until this morning, as we were making our last climb OUT of the house. We also never asked.

8) Whether or not you are a beach person (which I'm not. I find the woods to be much more serene) there are certain things that will always make you happy. One of them is the sunset by the pier, with a good friend, and a cold Escudo.

Thanks Chile!

Puppies & Rainbows

I have this conversation often:

"Hey Lauren, how did you like the club/bar/party/whatever last night?"

"It was ok."

"Yeah, you should have been there three months ago when all of these awesome other volunteers were here. That was the best time ever ever of my life. God, I wish it was like that now."

"You mean, everything was puppies and rainbows?"

I think you get the point. When my undeniable insecurity/jealousy rears its ugly head, at least I have a joke for it.

The other day a friend of mine (the one reponsible for the above conversation) used "Puppies and rainbows", snarkily, while talking about the current state of our organization. Its not puppies and rainbows here. Its the opposite, whatever that is. Luckily, we're all happy in this constant state of flux, because it means lots of work, and the opportunity to see things change fairly quickly. It also means instability, and frustration and tears. I don't begrudge any of my compañeros their reminiscence of the simpler times, when the organization was more about fun than about structure. But I do realize that what we're all working for now is that state: puppies and rainbows. I think we'll get there soon. In the meantime, there's this:

¡Colo Colo es Chile!

In my house, we watch football. Of course, there is no ban on baseball playoff games, or the occasional tennis match during somebody's Open. But really, when you come down to it, football is our sport. Giants football to be exact.

My father, on more than one occasion, has so utterly terrified me with his yelling at the television screen (more accurately yelling at the referree within said screen) that I had to leave the room. I also used to (along with my mother) get so nervous during the last game-deciding field goal of the game that I would hide in my closet. I would say that we, as a family, were a pretty intense sports family.

If I had grown up in Chile, or any Latin American country from what I hear, most people would laugh at that statement. They would say that I know NOTHING of what it means to be devoted to a team, or to show loyalty. Loyalty in sports had always been such a funny concept to me. Really, you would follow a team which you have some geographical connection with, be it your hometown, your college town or the town you currently live in. If you are lucky enough to have TWO teams in your city, you just sort of pick one. The teams are always changing (QBs, coaches, crappy place-kickers, etc.) so the whole loyalty thing seems so arbitrary. Fun, nonetheless. I know a guy who, being from New York and having attended college there, is a Miami Dolphins fan. There is no reason for this. I'm very glad that you liked Dan Marino. Everyone liked Dan Marino. But he doesn't play there anymore and you're a chump.

And I'm the one who gets made fun of for liking the Patriots because they have the same team colors as the Giants!

Seeing true, intrinsic team loyalty is watching fútbol. I went to my first match this past Sunday. I felt like I was cheating on the Giants, but as I can't watch them here anyway, and Eli Manning still managed to pull off one of the greatest fakes I've ever seen, I think that they'll forgive me. I was really nervous going to the game, because it was a big one (think Giants/Eagles with more shirtless angry men and rock throwing), and because I stick out so much. In Chilean fútbol, you sit with your team much like American Football. But that's not all. If you are found out to be a supporter of the opposing team (or any other team for that matter) you are ejected, with force. The stands are a mob of crazy colocolinos, chanting singing and fist pumping for two hours. The 30 minutes before the game begins is spent trading mildly to acutely insulting chants with the fans from the opposing team across the field. If you don't know these songs (as I didn't) you better do something, like wave an article of clothing or shout obscenities. Participation is mandatory. I managed, after hearing one chant fourteen times, to learn the last few lines. Just imagine me punching the air:

Chi- Chi- Chi-
le- le- le-
Colo Colo es Chile!

I really went for the tough one.

I don't know what it is about fútbol that brings out the maniac in all of us. Why does the shirtless man to my left think that his three year old should be shouting "Concha tu madre!" every five seconds? Why do no less than 20 carabinieros stand, in full riot gear, in front of the stands having random shit thrown at them for an hour and a half every week? Why do the referees (brave brave souls if you ask me) have to be escorted onto the field by the carabineros before each half, because they are so universally hated?

The answer, as my observation of one game has led me to believe, is this: The show is in the stands. I'll fully admit that the fútbol players in Latin America are stellar, and that the game itself is fun to watch. I'm no convert, and I still think that I could convince Jeremy Shockey to marry me, but fútbol is enjoyable. But at these games, there's no sideline hullabulloo. There's no zaniness on the big screen. There's no halftime show. What they do have, which is better than any Britnet Spears/Aerosmith/Mary J. Blige monstrosity I've ever seen, is true, die hard loyalty. There is unity and cheers and claps and colors. There is a giant banner covering half the crowd to welcome the team onto the field. There is a man with a drum keeping us all in rhythym. And best of all, there is a flare gun shooting fireworks that turn into little parachutes.

Did you hear me Giants Stadium? Fireworks that turn into parachutes. Works every time.