Spellbound

One of the girls involved in our completely magical photography program took the above photo. I just love it.

And: I'm going to use spellcheck from now on; reading through some old blogs has made me feel like a loser.

Also: You should watch/download/Netflix Dexter, because Michael C. Hall is a genius. Of course, that's after Machuca.

That is all.

This woman's work

Sip it up.

(yes, the website is finally done. I can breathe again.)

50 cups of coffee and you know it's on

A friend of mine used to say that line (sing-song it, really) all the time, and I always assumed it was a song lyric. Seeing it written out, it's just dumb.

But I'm still in Starbucks, and I'm trying to think of something appropriate to write about life or work or something. Like yesterday, I went to the toma to visit the jardin (daycare) and play with the kids. You aren't supposed to pick them up or make them fly or anything fun, because if you do it to one, they all want a piece. "Ahora mi, tia" was the mantra for about a half an hour. I didn't mind, except that my arms hurt a bit today. I got a little bitter at the tia for stopping the kids from asking me to pick them up so that they can touch the ceiling, because if I don't dote on them, what am I even there for? Is it so bad for the presence of a visitor to mean that there are going to be a few hours that are more fun and special than normal, especially on a Friday? I have no idea, and as I do so often do, I manage to convince myself that so much of our work is doing more harm than good. But those kids are so cute.

This has nothing to do with coffee, or with the Starbucks in which I am now sitting, which is being patrolled by a security guard wearing a suit and tie. In Starbucks. I have no idea what is worth stealing here, but I am going to use this opportunity to present to you a deep dark secret of mine: I attended a coffee tasting in Starbucks last week.

Who knew such a thing existed, let alone in a mall in Santiago, Chile. It turns out that every Starbucks barista has to be trained in the ways of coffee. To demonstrate their knowledge, they must conduct a tasting with their patrons, under the watchful gaze of all of the other staff members. Two types of coffee are presented (only from the FRENCH PRESS!), for wafting, sipping and enjoying. They are accompanied by expertly chosen baked goods. They both taste wretched, and I wonder why I still some to Starbucks at all.

It's the free wi-fi.

Bouncing Around the Room

Oh my sweet goodness gracious. I'm freaking out. Seriously, undeniably, freaking out about the launch of our new website. We're already 2 weeks late. Or a year, depending on who you ask. I'm obsessively posting photos, taking them down, and posting them again. It's sick.

Its also orientation week, so the new volunteers are here and they need things. Like talking and advice and coffee and sandwiches. We got to talk to the U.S. Embassador to Chile on Wednesday. It was as thrilling as it sounds.

If you've ever wondered about Chile's history, watch Machuca. Immediately. Even if you don't care about Chile at all. It's that good a movie.

2 dates, you're out...

I'm not doing so hot with my resolution of updating this daily, or even weekly. I'm going to have a paid blog soon, which will either drastically improve my ability to get a post out with some regularity, or....not. Vamos a ver.

I think that this week I have the best excuse, because I've been teaching myself how to use joomla (like a psycho) in anticipation of our website relaunch tomorrow (ok, tomorrow is the first day of Orientation, so maybe Tuesday). It's been...interesting. We had a webmaster, who did all of the CSS to create a custom template, which meant that when I tried to change anything I felt like a worthless joke of a person. He left, and plummeting (is this a word?) of my self- esteem ensued. But thanks to some nice people from the joomla forums, things got on track, but not without many a weeknight sitting in my bed reading techie websites and feeling like a crazy person. We're almost done, ¡gracias a dios!

I also went on a date this week with a random Chilean I met at Starbucks, a hotspot for Chileans and gringos alike and wherein I have been asked out multiple times (hilariously, as I'm generally here with my tall gringo friend, and am approached only when he gets up to go to the bathroom or get more coffee...in many ways I wish he has a weaker bladder).

He was nice, if not a little on the boring side (which I'm happy to chalk up to the language barrier, as I do everything else). That was, until he let the cat out of the bag that he was a RAGING RACIST!. In fairness, I find Chile to be one of the more homogeneous places I've visited, and the lack of diversity (which isn't a criticism as much as an observation, my Chilean reader who attacked me when I insulted Transantiago) allows for the rampant exchange of crazy stereotypes. But my date, who we're calling "Chad" because Liz told me she hates that name, wasn't just ignorant, he actually tried convince me that a certain racial group (does it matter which?) was, simply stated, a group of stupid criminals. He said this to me, as if I was the one who could then justify his belief having had actual interactions with the unnamed racial group. After he dropped the bomb, and I after I repeatedly said "Actually, no. ___ people are just like you and me...the usual response to a ridiculous blanket statement. At first I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt (or think that he was joking, at least) but then the conversation continued like this (i'm obviously paraphrasing, as the conversation took place in Spanish...the italics represent what i would have said, was I not a giant pansy when speaking in any language other than English):

Chad: "So, I'm right aren't I? All ___ people are criminals?"
Me: "What?"
Chad: "Oh, you must not understand me. You see, I hate all ___ people, because they are stupid criminals, and I'm glad there aren't many in this country. Actually ____ people too. They just want to blow everyone up. Especially people like you."
Me: "I wish I could blow you up. Or stab you with a fork. Why did the waiter take the fork? Probably to stop you from talking with your mouth full. Racist. Actually, I understand you perfectly. I already said that it wasn't true, and you aren't going to convince me otherwise. I don't think I want to talk about this."
Chad: "Why not? It's because it's true, isn't it. I've seen the movies. You can say, (looks around restaurant) there are no ______ people here. Just admit that it's true?"
Me: "That you should probably be taken into an alley and beaten? Yes, yes, I'll admit that. I'd like to get the check please. I'm very tired, and I think this conversation is inappropriate***." (***I said the word 'inappropriate' in English with really fun finger quotes to amuse myself.)
Chad: "I think I like you. Can I take you out salsa dancing tomorrow night?"
Me: "If by salsa dancing you mean a place where I slap you repeatedly and drink expensive wine, then yes. No."

And scene. It wouldn't have been so bad had this been our first date. But he waited until number two to bring this up. Actually, I don't know what the worst part of it is. Other than the fact that I'm afraid of men who go to Starbucks.