I've thought of two more.

7. Please be kind enough to develop some sort of system where I don't HAVE to pay for the bus in change. What would the world be if machines didn't accept bills and give you change? It's only logical. May I suggest a refillable card system? That seems to work for every other city in the world. Get with the program Santiago.

8. Stores should have schedules and they should stick to them. (I'm talking to you bodega on the corner of Einstein and Independencia.) Do you think I like getting up at 6 in the morning to go to work? No. But if everyone (and I mean me) worked only when they felt like it, no one (me again) would ever get anything done. Open up that store you jerks. I want to buy things! I want to give you the moneys for the goods. You're only going to win here, trust me.

- E

Dear People of Chile,

The following are rules one should follow when living in what I like to think of as a modern, civilized world. Please read carefully.

1. You know all those signs at the subway station that tell you to let people get OFF OF THE TRAIN before you get on? It's common sense, friends. You can't have 30 people getting on and off at the same time. Will it kill you to wait two seconds? I think not.

2. If you get on a bus where all the seats are taken and you have to stand, please stand at the back of the bus. Otherwise bees will eat your face and all of the people trying to get on after you will have to squeeze into the tiny space in the front. I don't like to be squeezed, especially when I am full of chocolate.

3. If you are over the age of 18, you should not — I repeat, SHOULD NOT — be making out in public. Maybe a little kiss, hold hands, whatever, but if I see tongues you've crossed the line. This kind of activity is not cute when you are a teenager, although it is universally accepted that teenagers are just balls of raging hormones, but when it comes to grown people, get a room. No one needs to see that. Seriously, would you kiss that way in front of your mother?

4. Stop stealing shit. It's not nice.

5. When taking English class at 8 in the morning, it is not proper to use the excuse "we're tired" when you don't answer a question or repeat when your teacher tells you to repeat. This is especially not proper when you have a fancy job in a fancy office and your teacher has to run around the city all day teaching a bunch of snots like you and she won't get home until 10pm and her stupid boss yells at her for wearing a jean jacket. Because, damn it, I'm more tired than you and that's all there is to it. Dumbass. Now Repeat.

6. The number of ants there are is in no way correlated to how much it will rain this winter. I don't care what "they" say, it's just not true. Also, wearing flip flops when it's just a little cold out will not give me pneumonia and the change of seasons does not make EVERYONE sick. In fact, I don't think it makes anyone sick. Except me when I have to hear how it makes you sick.

- E

p.s. My boss upon seeing me at work today: "What are you doing here?"
My response: "Um, I'm teaching a class. What are YOU doing here?"
I'm sort of glad she doesn't really get me.

'For example, I'm the employer, you are my subordinate'

Two fantastic things have happened with my students so far. The first is that one of them was trying to say "I like drinking Coke" except he didn't say "coke" he said something else that sounds kind of like coke but is highly inappropriate for class and for my family-friendly blog. I'll let you use your imagination. The other thing is that yesterday one of my students actually referred to me as his "subordinate." That one really tickled my funny bone.

I've got this one group of seven students that is all boys and they are, by far, my favorite group — nice guys, funny, learn quickly. Needless to say they enjoy me as well. Other than that, my schedule is tough and I'm tired as all shit. And, I have to work tomorrow (SATURDAY). I have to teach a class from 9:15 until 1pm.

Someone please tell me what I've done to deserve this. And, if you have any ideas for other jobs I can do — sell my soul for example — so that I don't have to teach anymore, I'd be forever grateful.

Tiredness,
E

Bubonic is one of my favorite words....ever.

A woman in LA was diagnosed with BUBONIC PLAGUE! Here are some highlights from the article:

"This is the first confirmed human case [of Bubonic Plague] in Los Angeles County since 1984." (SINCE 1984? Who the hell gets Bubonic Plague since, like, the 1300s?!)

"..the woman was exposed by fleas in her home and that there was no cause for alarm." (Anytime Bubonics are involved, I think it's cause for alarm.)

"An estimated 10 to 20 Americans contract plague each year' (20 people are getting PLAGUE each year?! WHO ARE THEY? British people from the 1300s? Seriously. Plus, I thought it was only called 'plague' when it was an epidemic. Why am I so confused?)

I didn't have contact with any Bubonics today, so hopefully I'm safe, but hot damn did I have a shitty day. First, I got chastised for wearing a jean jacket to work. No joke. I was already wearing uncomfortable dress pants and uncomfortable dress shoes and I have to get in trouble for wearing a goddamn jean jacket. I felt twelve and also I followed up my boss's comments with "Oh, you mean the jacket? What, I can't wear a jean jacket? What about these pants? Are these pants ok?" (You can decide for yourself whether those comments were a) sarcastic b) made out of concern c) the result of confusion or d) what I really meant was "what the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid whore. get out of my face."

THEN, i went to the mall (which I hate doing, but I had to kill 3 hours) and I walk out of some supermarket and the alarm goes off. So, the security guy follows me because CLEARLY he thinks I stole something and then when he realized I didn't steal shit, he made up this whole thing about how sometimes lotions and things still have the little tag that make the alarm go off. And, when that theory backfired, he made up this other whole thing about how I might have the little tag thing in my jacket even though I've had that jacket for FIVE YEARS and no alarm has ever gone off because of it. Anyway, he let me go and then all I really wanted was to bubonic plague my jacket.

I miss home.

Sadness,
E

Beeeeeee Yourself

I fear bees. I fear them a lot and there is no logic behind it. I've never been stung by a bee. I've never accidentally eaten one. I've never even been chased by one. But none of that matters because they scare the living crap out of me. I might (MIGHT) be able to trace it back to a little movie called My Girl, but I won't even go there.

(Sidebar: the other day I had a dream where I was friends with a kid who looked EXACTLY like Maculay Culkin and he was a total druggie. Lesson? I need cooler friends.)

Anyway, so I'm on - duh - the bus the other day and in comes this bee and lands right on my leg. In a very un-Eugenia fashion, I scopped it off of my leg and onto the floor with my purse and then tried really hard not to worry that it was going to freak out and eat my face in retaliation. I would have succeeded if it wasn't for the fact that some girl sat next to me (trapping me between her and the window) and then the old couple behind me started discussing the bee very loudly. The thing is, the bee had somehow flown up and was crawling around on the window next to the old lady (RIGHT BEHIND ME). So, the old man is trying to kill it — which I was taught to believe is generally bad idea — and the old lady is saying "you're gonna make it mad, you're gonna make it mad." Then he flicks (!!!) the bee right in my direction and it falls somewhere in the vicinity of my feet but we're all unsure and no one is more worried than me that it will now not only eat my face but my right hand and then leave me to live a life of freakish misery with no face and no right hand. You can understand my concern, I'm sure. So, I'm freaking out about this bee, asking the old man "DID YOU KILL IT?! IS IT DEAD?! WHERE IS IT!?" And I'm sure I was actually yelling because I had my headphones on and I couldn't tell how loud I was talking but he still wasn't really answering me just kind of laughing, and the old lady is like "I don't believe you killed it. I really don't think you killed it." That helped a lot. Thanks old lady.

Worst bus ride ever.

Eventually I moved to the other side of the bus because I couldn't stand the thought of that damn thing crawling up my leg all pissed off about the scooping and the flicking and the yelling. Thankfully I still have a fully functional face (and right hand) but it was a close call, I'll tell you. Which leads me to ask the question, if you're not supposed to try and kill the bee and you're not supposed to run away from it because it will follow you, then what the hell ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO? My god those things are evil.

Bzzzzzz,
E

Sitting in a bowl/reading the newspaper

The past few weeks have brought up a very big distinction between college and life in Chile.

In college I developed a moderate obsession with underwear collection. I think you will all feel me on this one. The idea was that the more underwear I had, the less often I was obligated to do laundry. In fact, during my four years at Penn, the only time you would ever hear me say "I need to do laundry" was when that statement was preceded by "Fuck, I'm out of underwear." I'm not digusting or anything, but you can all follow the logic. In college, you have to pay to do your laundry and, well, you also don't have much money. So, the less often I had to pay to do laundry the better, right? So, basically I have about a month and a half's worth of underwear and that will give you an idea of how long I can go without washing things in a machine, not counting the days when I don't actually shower (and we won't get into that, because I'd like to maintain at least some of my dignity on the internets.) The problem is my aunt does laundry like 50 times a day. And, if I leave the house, she washes everything in sight. The end result is that she washes the underwear I've used, hangs it dry (yes, the dryer is a foreign/expensive concept here) and then gives it back to me the next day. Then, I put that clean underwear in my underwear drawer and the next day I grab one from the top and basically I've been wearing the same 3 or 4 pairs of panties for like a month. I only realized this the other day when I, very intelligently, moved around the underwear in my drawer so that I stop grabbing the same ones. That's my Penn education hard at work for you.

The thing is not that I'm ungrateful. Whenever my clothes gets cleaned without my having to do anything, I'm grateful. It's just that, is it really neccessary to wash clothes so often? It seems like a waste, really. Plus about 90% of my underwear feels neglected these days, and that is just adding on the guilt. Frankly, after the blind lady, the people with the lazy eyes and all the Catholic guilt I'm getting passed on to me by diffusion, I doubt I can handle much more.

Speaking of not being able to handle much more, here are pictures of my cousin's twin daughters. They're fraternal, in case you can't tell and two of the most incredible kids I've ever met in my life. As is typical of me when I see cute things, I wanted to squeeze the hell out of them. Thankfully, I didn't and here they are making their internet debut:





Sorry one of them is sideways. I have not the knowledge nor the patience to fix it. Don't hurt yourself looking at it, though. It's just a kid in a bowl.

Loves,
E

Why I Hate The Bus

Today was my last day of training and tomorrow I start working as an english teacher. But that has nothing to do with the very enlightening experience I had today.

I was on the bus — the very, very full bus that the driver kept letting people get on (don't get me started) — and, as you can imagine I was getting really annoyed. First, I was forced to stand next to the door, which not only meant that I had to move EVERYTIME someone wanted to get off but also that before and during their departure from the bus they were forced to mandhandle me because the f-ing bus driver can't stop gradually. No, no these guys have to see just how close they can get to the bus in front of them without hitting the breaks and then — and i think they secretly love this — hit the break really hard at the last minute and send everyone flying forward. Everyone except me of course because I am trapped between the guy who's hand is on my ass and the metal bar digging into my side. So, I was just a little aggravated. Then this lady gets on the bus and squeezes her way through the masses to stand sort of in front of me holding on to the same metal pole that I am holding on to for dear life. No one else is holding on to the pole. Not one other person. Just me and her. Shockingly, this is not a bus for dogs and the pole is more than long enough so that two people can hold on to it without their hands bumping into each other.

This may sound weird, but the guy who's hand was very clearly on my ass did not bother me as much as this woman who, I imagined, out of pure ridiculousness would not stop moving her hand closer and closer to my hand. It's the principle. The ass guy had no other choice but to hold on to the thing that was right behind me, but the hand woman, she clearly was doing this just to spite me. Also, I have this thing about holding hands...that's certainly a story for another day, but the point is this woman was driving me fucking nuts. No matter how far away I moved my hand, her hand managed to find it again.

Finally she decides to get off of the bus and I couldn't be more thrilled. I'm having an Elaine on the subway moment where in my head I'm freaking out. I'm yelling completely obscene things at her in my mind. I'm giving her the most evil looks I can muster, with the kind of evil energy one can only give when one is trying to show emotion to a stranger through the evil eye. Then, the bus stops and she starts to get off and of course she puts her hands ALL OVER ME on the way to the door. And then, THEN she pulls out a cane and asks for help to get off of the bus because ... SHE WAS BLIND!

In my defense, she totally had normal looking eyes but my god did I feel like an asshole.

I think it was punishment for being totally freaked out by the THREE people with lazy eyes that I saw earlier today. One of them may have been a prosthetic eye and that freaks me out even more.

Anyway, I was a total bitch to a blind lady in my mind today and I have a bit of guilt about it. But, on the bright side, she definitely did not see my evil eye. And so, the world is all right.

Loves,
E

Talking to Jesus.

Today we did this really awesome thing in training as part of a mock activity that one of my fellow trainees prepared. Everyone had to name someone they admired (like someone famous, not your mom. Specifically not YOUR mom, but also not anyone else's) and then we had to pretend we were on a talk show and each of us was the person that we had said we admired, and we took turns interviewing each other. Guess who I got to interview?

JESUS! No joke, someone said they admire Jesus in a classroom setting, and those are the true benefits of living in a super Catholic country, although he's not Catholic, he's Anglican and a Catholic probably wouldn't say Jesus, but anyway, it rocked.

I asked him, you know, what you'd ask Jesus. Things like "what do you think the status of humanity is in the year 2006? have we gotten better or worse?" and "what exactly is it that you do all day?" and "hey, you've got a big holiday coming up this weekend, whatcha gonna do?"

When it was all over (trust me Jesus gave some boring answers) a couple of people commented on how i was a good interviewer. that made me laugh. i said i'd had a little bit of practice at it and then looked at the floor which i think either made me look shy or cocky. I'm leaning towards cocky.

On a related note, it's 'semana santa' here in Chile, better known as the ENTIRE WEEK before easter during which - I have just realized - I will not be allowed to eat meat. This is sad for several reasons. One, it makes me realize that I have no control over my meals, two, I like meat and three it reminds me that I might be forced to go to church this weekend, and frankly I think interviewing Jesus and asking him what he does all day is more than enough religion for the year. I should certainly be exempt from actually having to attend church. Someone please back me up on this.

I Heart NYC

On March 15 I received the following email from my brother:

"Hey, Guess who i shared a cab with this morning.... guess, guess.... go on.
















Giselle Bundchen!!!! Did you guess it? NO!"


I share this with you for two reasons. One, because it reminds me what an insane place New York City is and why (celebrities aside) I miss it.

Two, it gives me the opportunity to tell you that my brother once stood behind Al Roker in line at the supermarket and talked to him about how to make thanksgiving turkeys. And, although him sharing a cab with Giselle is probably not true (liar), I'm going to let it slide and believe it anyway, even though he REFUSED to believe that I saw Tate Donovan with a bicycle on 42nd street.

(For those of you who don't remember, Tate Donovan is the man who was engaged to Jennifer Aniston before anyone cared whether or not her biological clock was ticking. Aside from that, he seems like a very pleasant man and he smiles a lot and he has a bicycle. AND, he was in Love Potion No. 9 with Sandra Bullock, which is a great movie.)



Anyway, I heart New York and I have to give it to him — if it's true — sharing a cab with Giselle Bundchen is way better than seeing Tate Donovan with a bicycle.


Here are some more pictures from my trip to the south:

This is the view from the front porch of my cousin's house in Quellon (on the island of Chiloe) if you turn to the right. Please note the garbage bag, because I have yet to see one human in this country who owns a regular size garbage can and throws out regular size garbage bags.



This is the entire city of Quellon from the other shore. Yes, that really is the whole city. It's very pretty but there is nothing to do there, apparently, except get trashed in the middle of the day and try to cross the street, which may seem like fun to all of you, but it can't possibly be that much fun when it happens on a daily basis.



Wondering how much fun you can suck out of crossing the street drunk,
E

The Diplomats' Kids

Today I started my first day of training at an english institute. It's an an institute that is known and exists in varous countries with headquarters in Princeton, New Jersey (I learned that today). So far it's been pretty cool. Our trainer lady does this insane "mmmm-k" thing that is JUST LIKE the teacher from South Park, and it's really pissing me off that no one else has mentioned it. I would mention it myself but... I'm shy. It kills me that none of the other 8 teachers-in-training laughs when she says "mmmmm-k" in a manly voice. Either way, today in class I made a 'joke' about being self-involved and for the first time since I got to Chile I felt like I was communicating with people and they really, actually, truly got it. Then they went on to this whole discussion about how I used humor in my 'presentation' and how that helps to break the ice in a classroom setting and blah blah blah. I wanted to explain that none of our future students will get my jokes, but then they got all caught up some other stuff and I zoned out for a few while thinking about how no one appreciates my funniness. (Funniness?) So, after a five day training program I will have real live students to torture with my perfectly pronounced, fast-talking english.

(All of my fellow trainees are children of diplomats. Jerks.)

OH, this is good. So, we all had to do these presentations on whatever we wanted and after everyone was done we went over what everyone did right and wrong so we can learn to run a class. Anyway, after mine the trainer said something like "Well, for one you're english is very good. Not the words you use, I mean the way you use them." Can someone please dicepher what kind of a freak compliment that was?

Man, it's good to have something to do during the day other than watch horrid Chilean television.

As promised, more pictures:



This is a picture of my very fabulous little cousin Sofia with a very fabulous (and flea-infested) little kitten who I should mention thoroughly enjoys long naps anywhere she can take them.






This is the neighborhood my cousin Javier lives in in Puerto Montt. Please notice the GIANT VOLCANO in the background. No worries, it looks closer than it is, but if my cousin were more awesome (not that he isn't awesome cause he is, but if he were more awesome) he would run around saying "there's a volcano in my backyard!" (maybe with a bell? too much?)



This is a map of Chile so you can see how long I traveled to get from Santiago to Puerto Montt.













This is the boat that takes all the buses accross the canal from the continent to the island of Chiloe. It looks safe but it didn't really feel like it.







That's all for now, folks.

Sleep tighties.

Loves,
E

Finally...

A decent song by The Frames but also how I feel about now having internet at home. As promised, here are some pictures to ease you into my regular posting schedule. There will be more to come, of course.

This is what was waiting for me when I arrived in Chile - a lovely 'asado.' Yes, it was lovely. Also, that's my cousin Claudia in the picture, who would probably be horrified if she knew I published this on the internets.



These two are the front and backyard of my aunt's house. Tell me you wouldn't feel lucky to have that view.





I think if you click on these pictures you will see bigger versions. Test it out, let me know if it works.

Tomorrow will bring more pictures and more thoughts as I also begin training for my new job (which I will tell you all about TOMORROW). Don't you hate that? I mean, why wouldn't I just tell you now since I'm here and I'm typing. But sadly, not.

Loves,

E