Mi Cumpleaños

I'm starting to get old--I turned 25 today!  I'm not usually one to make a big deal out of birthdays, but somehow I'd let it slip to my morning class (the "nice" class--so called because we had to introduce ourselves on the first day and every single person said "I am nice."  I also have my "cat class," but that's another story).  Anyway, I really like my morning class, but it can get frustrating because it starts at 8:30 a.m., and hardly anyone ever shows up on time.  We don't usually get started into the lesson until almost 9:00!

Which is why I was surprised when I arrived to my classroom around 8:20 Monday morning to find almost half of the class already there!  Not only were they in the classroom, they had decorated it with purple balloons (my favorite color--they remembered!).  As I walked in, they all yelled "surprise!"  And boy, was I surprised!  Then, they pulled out a big cake (manjar flavor, of course), and topped it off with candles in the shape of the number "25."  When the rest of the class arrived, the lit the candles and everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me--in English!  After the song, they all started yelling "que lo muerde, que lo muerde!"  Apparently, it's a tradition in Chile that before cutting the cake, the birthday-er takes a big bite out of it.  I was a bit confused, but they wouldn't stop yelling until I took a bite.  It was pretty delicious!  And I managed to get frosting all over my face, which they of course found very hilarious.  Turns out I was pretty lucky, because the second part of the tradition is that someone comes up behind you and shoves your whole face into the cake.  My students were courteous enough to forgo that cultural lesson for the day.

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I had planned a short reading activity for the day, but had already tried it in other classes without much luck, so I decided just to go with the flow and continue with the party.  The students had take a survey on the first day where I let them ask me any question they wanted.  I took the opportunity to pull out the survey and answer their questions.  Since quite a few of the students in this class also took me last semester, a lot of the questions were about Scott and the wedding.  Unfortunately, I didn't have much information to give them on that subject, but at least they got some new vocabulary out of it!  Some of them also asked about what my life was like in the U.S., so I pulled up some photos of Wisconsin in winter and even let them see some of my baby photos.  They really enjoyed that part!  They wanted to know what people do for fun in the U.S., so I pulled up a youtube video of some good, old-fashioned Texan line-dancing.  Some of the previous students remembered me showing some last semester, and specifically requested that I play "the big belt song."  For those of you unfamiliar with this, it is "Cotton-Eyed Joe"--a part of the dance to this song requires that you grab your belt buckle and show it off.  Texans understand the importance of this gesture quite well, but I had an interesting time trying to explain it to my Chilean students (by the way, don't try to Google it--"Texas Belt Buckle" can also apparently have another definition that is not classroom-appropriate).

© Nancy Nangel

A few students tried to do some line-dancing with me (I'm so glad I lived in Texas and can show off that type of dancing--it's the only type I can manage!).  Then, they showed me the traditional Chilean dance, the cueca.  A couple of them were actually really good at it!  One girl in particular had some excellent cueca skills, and the rest of the class began to make fun of her.  She retorted back that she was the only good Chilean in the class, as it should be a national duty to learn the dance.  Surprisingly, this quieted down the heckling, if only temporarily.  Of course, after the demonstration, I was expected to attempt the dance as well.  As I've mentioned, dancing is not my forté, but I gave it a try anyway.  A couple students filmed it on their phones, but luckily no evidence has appeared on the internet as of yet.

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We spent the remainder of the class enjoying the snacks that the students had brought and searching the internet for strange cultural customs to share with one another.  I think I won the contest when I showed the picture of the American "walking" his dog from his car (thanks to Scott for finding that one).  So, while the day may not have been the most productive in terms of language acquisition, I think I can safely say that there were some good cultural lessons (especially for me!).  It was a great start to my birthday--thanks to my amazing students!  While that was the only class that threw a full-out party for me, I did get songs from the others.  A couple students even gave me chocolate as gifts! One class of boys offered me a striptease, although I did have to politely decline that generous offer.  Even the school gave me a present--a coffee mug with the school logo printed on it.  All in all, I must say it was definitely one of my more memorable birthdays!  Thanks to everyone who contributed--I felt very special that day!  

    

Valparaíso

Just a few days until Scott had to head to New York to finalize his UK visa, we decided to take a quick day trip over to Valparaíso, the coastal city about an hour north of Santiago.   We'd been talking about doing it the whole two months that he was in Chile but, as you can see from previous posts, we got sidetracked with other adventures.  He knew that I really loved the city--ever since I studied abroad there in 2007, I've been trying to get back!  So, he's heard a story or two about it.  Unfortunately, it looked like we were running out of time and wouldn't make it together this time.  The night before, we realized we didn't have anything else to do and tentatively planned to take the trip up north.  However, when we woke up, I wasn't feeling up to it, and really just wanted to stay in.  Scott is normally happy to stay home and hang out, so I was surprised when he started trying to convince me to go.  I put up a good fight, but finally I gave in and agreed to go, even though I was still a bit confused as to why he wanted to so badly!

We headed over to Pajaritos bus station to get our tickets.  The last time we'd taken a bus to visit my former host family in Vina del Mar, we'd tried to leave from the Central Station--that turned out to be a disaster and we weren't ready to try it again any time soon!  Luckily, it was much less chaotic and easier to navigate at the smaller station--we bought the tickets and boarded the bus within five minutes. On the way, a movie was played on the drop-down screens on the bus.  The movie on this trip was called "In Time," about life in the future when time has replaced money as currency.  It was really interesting!  Just as I was getting really into the story, the bus pulled into the terminal at the Valparaíso station.  So I don't know how it ends, but I'm going to get around to watching it one of these days.  When I have some extra time...

We got off the bus and headed straight to the bathrooms--just some advice: don't drink a lot of coffee before getting on bumpy, hour-long bus ride through the mountains.  Once we were feeling a bit more relaxed, we headed to the tourist booth to get some more information and, most importantly, a map.  Of course, the woman tried to sell us a 4-hour tour of the city and surrounding areas.  It looked like a decent deal, but it was such a nice day that we decided to go it alone and see what we could explore ourselves.  The bus station is on the northern end of the city, so we figured we'd walk to the southern end and work our way back from there.  It was a bit of a distance, but we weren't in a hurry and the weather was much warmer than we expected, so we set off.

We followed the coastline the whole way, enjoying the sea breeze and the view of the boats in the harbor.  We even got to see quite of few official naval ships.  I have to admit, I can't really tell one ship from another, but Scott was pretty excited about that.  About halfway along our walk, we stopped at Muelle Prat, the dock from where boat day tours leave.  We dodged some more salesmen, but spent a while enjoying the view and admiring some of the smaller watercraft docked there.  There were also some souvenir stands, so of course we had to check out our options there before moving on.  There were some interesting things, but we decided it was a bit early in the day to be loading up on souvenirs just yet.

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We continued following the coast until we arrived at Ascensor Artilleria.  This is one of the 16 funiculars that still exist in the city, dating all the way back to the late nineteenth century.  The funiculars were built to help citizens move up and down the city's various steep hills.  This particular one is one of the oldest--the third ever built in the city, it was constructed in 1892.  It it considered one of the best places to go for a beautiful panoramic view of the city.  And the skies were perfectly clear, allowing some truly great views!  I was also surprised to see that the carriages had been painted since I was last there; now, there is modern artwork covering the outside.  I much prefer that to the solid colors they were before.  I didn't get any pictures this time, so you'll have to do with an old one from the internet.  Just imagine it much more colorful.

After a bit of a wait in line, we finally got into the funicular and rode up to the top.  Not only was it fun to watch the city and the ocean drop below us, it was also interesting to listen to the various languages being spoken inside the carriage!  There were a few Brits, some Australians, a couple Germans, and I believe maybe some French?  Everyone was in their own little world, so it was fun to watch their expressions (physical and verbal) as we ascended the hill.  We got another entertaining moment as we exited the carriage, only to be greeted by a very tiny, very excited dog.  Apparently, he lives at the top of the hill and oftentimes believes this gives him the right to ride the funicular for free.  We had to wait a bit as the attendant chased him off (a common duty for her job, she said), but we did eventually make it through the gates and out to the vista at the top.

The view was spectacular!  I didn't have my camera, but Scott got a couple nice shots of the view (and me, of course).  We spent a while just walking around the platform, taking in everything.  We could see the whole city, and it seemed like the whole ocean, too!  We watched as some barges were unloaded and the crates packed onto trains and hauled off towards their final destinations.  We watched as other people enjoyed the nice day, riding their bikes or flying kites below. We even met a friendly cat sunning on top of a car.  Although I really hadn't wanted to come, my mood was starting to lift and by 2:00, I really was beginning to enjoy myself.  And I was starting to get hungry.

Scott shared my feelings, so we started to look for a good place to eat.  We didn't have to look far, because just up the hill was an old house (think old San Francisco style) with a sign out front advertising a daily lunch menu.  It turned out to be a coffeehouse/ice cream parlor/restaurant, and the building was pretty awesome, so we went in to check it out.  It was small and relaxing, and there were even a bunch of books to read while you enjoyed your coffee!  It looked like a place that had a lot of regulars, but would also be friendly to tourists.  The waiter was very friendly and attentive (something that is not always easy to find in Chile), and even helped us with some suggestions as to what to choose.  I chose the menu of the day, which included a pisco sour, a seafood empanada, and baked fish with rice.  Scott got some loose-leaf tea with grilled chicken and creole mashed potatoes.  The food was served efficiently and it was delicious!  My empanada could have been a meal in itself!  Luckily, we hadn't had much of a breakfast, so I managed to eat most of the fish, too.  I slowed down a bit by the time I got to the rice, but Scott helped me out with that.  I also managed to get a quick taste of his before it disappeared, as well.

After lunch, we decided that we might as well check out the Naval Museum since it was just across the street.  I love history, so it was fun to learn the history of Chile's navy.  I'm not really into naval stuff, but it was really fun going there with Scott!  He was so excited about all the model ships they had (they even had a special temporary exhibit going on, displaying the work of the local model ship club).  He stopped at every one to explain to me how they were built and what they were used for, and often he even gave me historical examples of battles they were used in.  It was really helpful, especially because the museum didn't provide much of that kind of information (it mostly gave the name of the ship, and maybe of some of the people who were on it).  The Naval Museum was also probably the only place that Scott actually asked me to take his picture--next to a huge model of... some kind of ship.  It was large and impressive, but that's all I can tell you about it.  And I don't even have the picture, so you'll have to talk to him if you want more information.  But be careful--he might give you a lot more than you asked for!  I loved it!  Seeing him so excited just made me more excited.  If you know him, Scott is usually pretty subdued, but he was like a kid in a candy shop at this museum!  He actually had been a bit less restrained than usual all day, but I still didn't really know why.

There was also an exhibit about piracy around the world.  It had some fun interactive features, like stockades.  Of course we had to lock each other up for a bit.  And play on the model pirate ship.  We only had to leave when a tour group full of firemen came in to "view" (play with!) the exhibit.  Probably the best part of the museum, though, was the exhibit in the courtyard of the Fenix.  The Fenix is the capsule that was used to rescue the trapped Chilean miners in 2010.  And the object on display wasn't a replica, either--it was the actual capsule that held the miners during the rescue operation.  I was a bit confused as to why it would be displayed in a naval museum, but apparently some of the doctors that attended at the scene were naval doctors.  It was amazing to see, and to imagine what it must have been like for the miners.  The space for a person was so small that I had a hard time getting myself into it!  It definitely was not comfortable, especially considering that each journey out of the mine took about 20 minutes.  But after two months trapped, I'm sure that was the least of the miners' worries.  It was very interesting to be able to experience something that I had heard so much about on the news.  But I'm very glad that it was just a taste--I don't think I need any prolonged experience like that!

We spent a few hours in the museum, a bit longer than we had expected.  By the time we came out, it was about time for the sun to start to set.  We still had a bit of sunlight yet, so Scott suggested trying to explore some of the other hills by foot.  This is much easier said than done, as Valparaíso's street plan is not the most intuitive.  We tried to walk to the next hill over from the one we were on, but kept running into dead ends.  Scott was, again, being much more persistent than normal in his attempts to persuade me to keep going.  He was very intent on getting to the top of a hill for sunset.  I was a bit confused, because it is not in Scott's nature to have such a strict mission, especially when he is on vacation.  I convinced him that the path we were on wasn't working out, but did agree to try to get to the top of another hill.  We walked down by the water again for a while until Scott saw another hill that he thought was worthy of our ascent.

www.phlogy.com

The new goal was to climb to the top of Cerro Toro.  There was a funicular, but it had conveniently broken down.  So, we got to walk up about six flights of stairs to get to the top.  I was in no hurry, so I took my time getting up the stairs.  Scott ran up in about 30 seconds.  I asked him again why he was so determined to get to where ever it was we seemed to be going, and he said that he just needed to have a destination.  This is a very out-of-character statement for Scott, but I humored him and followed along.  From the street below, he had seen a beautiful white balcony at the top of the hill, and had decided that that was to be our destination.  Of course, finding that balcony once we had reached the top of the hill was another challenge.  After a bit of wandering, we discovered that the balcony belonged to the Lord Cochrane Museum.  The museum was no longer accepting visitors, but we were allowed to go into the courtyard behind the building.  It was here that we found the balcony Scott had seen from below.

The whole hill was pretty empty, but in the courtyard was a man playing with his dog and young son.  We all smiled at one another and said the expected polite "hello," but then they went back to playing and we went to the corner of the balcony to enjoy the view.  I think the view from there was even better than from Cerro Artilleria.  The colors of the buildings were so vibrant, and they transitioned perfectly into sand on the beach and out into the ocean.  The sun was setting, adding another layer of color to the already stunning scene.  It was quiet and peaceful, so I spent a long time just staring out into the endless rainbow of the city.  It was very relaxing.  Eventually, the man and his son left, and I could tell that the museum grounds were about to close.

I told Scott that we should probably leave, but he insisted on staying just a little longer.  I was starting to get uncomfortable, because I could tell that it was time to lock the gates, but I agreed to stay for one more minute.  Scott pulled me over beneath a tree, right where the best view was.  He thanked me for coming with him, and for letting him stay with me in Santiago.  I was about to say "you're welcome," and pull him to leave, but he continued.  He told me that he felt very lucky to be with me, and that the past couple years together have been the best in his life.  Then, he got down on his knees and asked me to I would spend many more years with him as his wife.

I was so shocked! I had not expected that at all!  We had talked about getting married, but had figured that since we haven't exactly managed to stay in the same place for very long yet, that it wouldn't happen for a few more years.  I am pretty sure that my face was bright red, but I was so happy!  I pulled him up and said yes, of course!  He sighed as if he hadn't taken a breath the entire time, pulled me towards him and kissed me.  I was still in a bit of shock as the guard came out and told us that we had to leave, now.  Apparently he had seen what was going on, and waited until we were finished to kick us out.  Very nice of him!

We were both so excited that we got lost a few times before managing to find the way back down the hill again.  After a few minutes, when he'd managed to catch his breath again, Scott stopped me and asked, "you said 'yes,' right?"  I laughed; he'd been so nervous that he didn't even grasp what I'd said!  I assured him that I had, and we continued our walk.  I couldn't stop grinning.  I'm pretty sure that people thought we were crazy, and it's probably a bit true.

The best part of this was that it was almost completely spontaneous.  So much, in fact, that he didn't have a ring yet.  He said that he hadn't really planned it at all, but knew how much I loved Valparaíso and at least wanted to come see it with me before he left, which is why he was so insistent on coming.  He wasn't even really thinking of proposing yet; just of spending a nice day with me in a city I like.  When we got there and he saw how beautiful the city was and how much I liked it and how much we were enjoying being together, he decided that it would be the perfect time.  He just needed the perfect place, which explains his mission to get to the top of a hill before sunset.  I am so glad he convinced me to go--it turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my life (so far)!

Another advantage of the spontaneity was that I got to pick out my own ring.  Scott said he'd actually been to the market a few times to try to find one, but never saw one that stuck out to him.  Then, there was the small problem of trying to explain what he was looking for to the vendors, so he never managed to get very far with that.  He was going to wait until he could get to England and do it "properly," but I guess he just couldn't wait!  When we got to the bottom of the hill, we stumbled upon an artisan market where we decided to stop in for a quick look.  We weren't even really intending to buy a ring (I'd been looking at rings since I arrived and hadn't found much I liked, either), but just as we were about leave we came upon a jewelry booth with just what we'd been looking for.  It was a small silver ring with a circular lapis lazuli.  I tried it on, and it fit perfectly.  Of course we knew that this would be "the" ring.  It's not traditional, but I think it's perfect!

We shopped a little bit more, and I bought Scott a birthday present (a mug with "awesome face" to use at school), and then we headed back to the station to catch a bus back to Santiago.  There was another movie playing on the way back, but I couldn't tell you what it was.  I was way too excited, thinking about our next adventures together!

Our Journey

Or “How it took me pretty much forever to find the right spot”

Symbolism is important

by Scott Reed

  Our story begins not on that fine, summer day in the coastal Chilean town of Valparaiso, nor does it begin in some tropical paradise or mountain villa.  It does not begin in a fancy restaurant towering above a sparkling cityscape, not even in some quaint countryside village.  No, our tale begins in a small, and rather cramped, apartment in the sprawling city of Santiago wherein I waited, and plotted.

I had decided some time earlier, I’m not sure when, that I would marry Brittany.  She is everything to me: a perfect counterpart.  This is not to say she is perfect, for no one is, I am not, and I would not wish her to be or even to try to be.  She is perfect in that she is the exclamation point added to every sentence of my life: she enhances, improves, and adds to everything that I do.  I have known this for some time: she and I are destined to amplify each other’s lives  beyond even the point where our feet merely dream of the steps they once took.  But first, I needed to plan.

Symbolism is important.  Symbols remain, even when other things fail.  When ancient peoples and religions have died and vanished from the world, their symbols remain.  As such, an appropriate symbol was necessary to fittingly etch our union into the tablet of history.  I had at first thought of taking Brittany into the mountains, as I had imagined us, hand entwined, looking out across a great expanse of peaks and snow.  This proved difficult to engineer, as I did not know the land and did not know of an opportunity to bring up such a trip.

 I considered Easter Island as an appropriate spot, as our holiday there would be an ideally memorable location.  Things seemed to go well and I planned on making my move on our last day, so best to surprise her.  Our evening of excellent food and entertainment left me feeling very optimistic of the evening so I suggested we take a walk about the town.  We saw beautiful vistas lit by the moon, crashing waves silhoutted against the sky, and the light glow of island lights in the distance.  Unfortunately these things were also witnessed by the myriad of people that milled about us: we never seemed to be able to escape them .  I felt it was not the right time.  This moment should, I thought, be a moment shared only between us, not a host of onlookers.

We left Easter Island and continued with our last few weeks together.  I began to panic, I will admit, because I deeply wanted to propose before I left Chile, but I especially did not want to propose simply out of a feeling of desperation and lack of time.  As I have said before, symbolism is important.  I racked my brain trying to think of an appropriate situation, an appropriate place that would allow me to tell the love of my life I wish to spend all of my days with her.  I had considered proposing in Santiago, perhaps on the large mountain whose name I still hadn’t learned, referring to it only as “The big hill”.  That seemed a poor decision too, not merely for my inability to remember its actual name but also in that Santiago was not, to be honest, the sort of place I would wish to remember whenever I think about that fateful day.  I felt that Brittany would strongly feel the same in this regard.  So, Santiago was out.  San Pedro was already passed.  Easter Island was out.  Where else was there?  I resigned myself to finding a place, perhaps in Europe, at some later time to ask her.  Disappointing as this was, I would still rather wait for the right opportunity to present itself than to simply take a lesser  alternative for lack of patience.

It was at this point, not long after we returned from Easter Island, that the seed of an idea began to grow in my mind.  We still had a place to go, one last destination in the country: Valparaiso.  This was a city by the sea, conveniently, and was a city in which Brittany had lived and gathered many pleasant memories.  It was one of the reasons she had so dearly wanted to return to Chile in the first place, having lived there briefly in her college exchange program.  She spoke of it with reverence, and I, having a personal affinity for the sea, felt the place might just be the appropriate spot for my surprise.  So then, Valparaiso it was!  My only concern then was to find an appropriate place within the appropriate place: symbolism is important.  If a suitable place could not be found then my plans would simply revert back to where they were after Easter Island, again delayed but in no way lessened by it. 

So I began the next step of my plans: finding a suitable spot within the city itself.  Not knowing the city, of course, this proved exceptionally difficult.  We had visited the area once before, though admittedly under some degree of stress as we had at the time been trying to make a dinner meeting with Brittany’s former host family.  I saw a bit of the city, though it was at night and only along very limited stretches of the city streets.  I still knew nothing of its grand vistas, the great hills, or the vast sea beyond that I had hoped to make my backdrop on this most special of occasions.  So my problem presented itself: how then do I plan for a specific location at a specific place for a very specific event when I knew of none of the specifics save that we would be *somewhere* in the city?  At times like this I resort to my catch-all for panic moments: improvisation.  Lacking any better plan, I banked on being able to recognize a place when we come upon it.  This is another way of saying “I didn’t have any plan at all and just winged it and hoped for the best”.  This would prove, as it typically does, a tiny bit frustrating.

We began our trip to Valparaiso, fortunately, unlike our previous trip.  We found our correct bus terminal, situated ourselves comfortably inside, and snagged ourselves comfortable seats in the back.  While it was unfortunate we could not see the television in the front of the bus to check for any movies that might be playing, it didn’t matter too much because there weren’t any movies playing anyway.  We looked out the window at the great hills and mountains passing us by.  I was oft reminded of my home in California, with its similar hills and mountains dotted with small desert shrubs and trees, and felt then that this was an appropriate place for me to propose to her.  It had the feel of an adventure in far off lands while still bearing those similar sights that memory had come to call “home”.  The trip continued uneventfully until we at last found ourselves in the city that, dared I to hope, would change our lives forever.

I liked Valparaiso as soon as I saw it.  I thought the inhabitants were absolutely insane for building their homes in much the same way one might stack a deck of cards after drinking heavily, but this was an endearing quality.  Our first stop was, of course, the bus station terminal to get our bearings, collect maps, and generally figure out what, exactly, it was we were actually going to do.  I immediately noticed several items of interest, most notably several large hills and a naval museum nearby.  Surely, I thought, these hills might hide some fantastic vantage point wherein we might have a moment of privacy.  Also, naval museums are awesome.  We began towards these places, Brittany asking if we should perhaps take a bus as they were some distance away.  I opted for the walking, as it would be good for us to be out and about and would provide me with extra time to plot the layout of the city and find a suitable location for my proposal. 

We walked for some time in the sunshine, taking in the different sights.  I remember in particular a large loading dock and a storage building that seemed very old.   As we passed several bus stops Brittany remarked that the busses would often not completely stop, requiring you to essentially do a bit of a running jump to board them.  I was not surprised, as again the nature of some of the more interesting cliffside housing informed me that fear of physical danger was not among identifiable Chilean characteristics.  We walked more, looking out to the sea and enjoying the sky above.  Truly, better weather could not have existed on such a day.  I looked out upon the many ships at sea and wandered what purpose they had.  Brittany told me of the Chilean Navy’s tendency to remain in a sort of constant alert status for fear of attack from Peru, or perhaps it was Argentina, because… well, that’s what they do.

As we walked we encountered various vendors and shops, all selling interesting and less interesting manner of objects.  Brittany told me of, I believe, a pub or bar or restaurant that used to be underground in the area.  We passed by a very interesting artist selling pictures of the city: I would later discover that these were common souvenirs sold all over.  The pictures were superimposed over various objects: posters, notebooks, wallets, key chains, and the like.  For a few dollars you could take home a bit of Valparaiso art.  After much deliberating and worrying  over price and whether it was “worth it”, I purchased a small notebook depicting a funicular and the vast sea beyond

We arrived at the base of a steep hill and Brittany introduced me to the second funicular of my life.  For those who do not know, the funicular is a sort of carriage system consisting of a boxcar, a set of tracks, and cable to pull the car up the hill.  The whole thing was like some Frankenstein creation of wood and steel, but I was excited to attempt it and we joined the line.  Now, typically, riding a funicular has some sort of cost associated with it.   This usually isn’t much, a few dollars worth or the like, but there is something.  After some time of waiting for this monstrosity to arrive for our turn, we both seemed to realize that nobody was paying any money.  At the very least, nobody was taking any.  There was a brief moment of panic as we both mentally went through the potential reasons why this might be, the probability of us being correct, and the embarrassment potentially suffered were we to make a false assumption.  It is entirely possible all of this went only through my own head, but I like to think Brittany and I both have that special kind of paranoia streak that makes you think to yourself “Get ON with it!”.

We entered the funicular and it began its slow ascent.  We took pictures out of the tiny windows as we rose above the sea and into the sky.  The ships were laid out before us in great majesty and I thought, again, that this seemed an excellent place for me to ask for Brittany’s hand.  We reached the top, only to be greeted by a dog.  I’m not sure who owned this dog, which is essentially the norm with every dog in the country, but it seemed to feel rather at home where it was and informed us through its tiny yapping that it was so.  There was also a cat on top of a car.  I believe it was yellow.  The cat, being considerably less interesting to me (and judging by the thing’s lazy sprawl over the car, likely not very interesting to itself either) did not draw my attention.  Brittany, on the other hand, loved the thing and, as she often does, offered to take it home to love and pet and feed and cuddle and everything else apparently that cat lovers do.  I shall not pretend to understand: I suppose it was fluffy.

We walked around the point where the funicular had dropped us off.  There were many shops and vendors, selling all manner of trinkets and jewelry.  We wandered a bit and looked at many of them: several selections of earrings caught Brittany’s eye.  She wanted to purchase some but, knowing she had over 9000 at home, I said “no way!” I am lying, of course.  I would buy her any number of brightly colored, shiny, cat-oriented, or otherwise cute/fluffy/pretty earrings she so desired.  None of these quite stuck out to her, however, so we moved on.

At this point we decided we were fairly famished, what with the walking and the funicularing and the cat gazing, and so decided then to grab something to eat.  Wondering about we saw many signs for some sort of restaurant situated above the funicular but could not, however, find any means by which it could be entered.  We circled it on the one side, then the other.  Perhaps they thought we should climb underneath the funicular platform in some sort of adventurous spiderman adventure time.  Regardless, we couldn’t figure it out so we went to the nearby, and clearly labeled, Café Postal.  Why it was called Postal, I don’t know.  Suffice it to say that images of mailmen entered my head. 

The Café was very pleasant, with an old sort of cabin-in-the-woods feel to it.  The front façade was painted a pleasant green and red wood combination that made it seem quite inviting.  The interior, a two story building, seemed very much a refurbished home.  There were tables, a bar, and sitting arrangements for a small number of people, no more than 25 or so.  They had a large selection of teas, of which I had something of a reddish complexion that smelled strongly of gardening.  Brittany ordered a fish and I some chicken and we sat down to a lovely meal while the sun shined brightly outside.  Doubtless the cat watched us with typical cat evils in mind.

Having finished the meal, we ventured out towards the naval museum, in which I had particular interest.  I hoped even that I could find a suitable place for the proposal here.  Not inside the museum, of course, but there was surrounding it a kind of garden that seemed suitable.  I was determined that the spot be one of some natural beauty: a vista, or grove of nature perhaps.  As we approached the museum it became obvious, however, that the garden surrounding it was not open to the public.  My mind began to work overtime, trying to think of where else we might go.  I scanned the area and, not seeing anything that could work, realized that we would have to wait until our next part of the day before I could make my move.  It was unfortunate, but not entirely hopeless yet.  I knew the area near the funicular was good, though far too populated to do.  Perhaps after we finished in the museum enough people would be gone to make it an acceptable spot.  I could but wait, and see.

We entered the museum by way of the gift shop.  A unique change, I thought, as the gift shop typically resides at the end of one’s epic journey through the past.  Good to prime your visitors with all the cool stuff before you wave it in front of their faces, frantically hurling price tags limited edition discounts.  Needless to say I wanted to buy everything.  Fortunately, I wear my cheapness about me like an armored cloak: you will not have me glorious naval trinkets! 

We meandered through the museum at a leisurely pace.  While I was panicked by the timing and location of my proposal, I was not yet in such a hurry that I could not enjoy pretty pictures and old things in boxes.  Chile had an interesting and rather varied naval history.  It appeared that the British had a hand in helping to build the Chilean Navy, a helping hand I am sure they were very grateful for.  Looking at the Chilean Navy with any scrutiny, however, showed the rather poor extent of its strength.  Even with its overseas help it seemed entirely composed of one frigate, a brigantine, and a few small ships that could pass for large fishing boats if you were to load them with something else that might be more beneficial to the Chilean Navy than what they were actually loaded with.  Like fish.  Suffice to say the Chilean Navy, technically speaking, was the world equivalent of a box of angry kittens Britain carried around threatening to drop on the Peruvians.  Nevertheless, seeing as the Navy’s entire purpose even today seems to be to protect against Peru (A terrifying enemy if ever there was one) this level of strength is perfectly appropriate.  Kittens can be a terrifying force in the right hands.  I bet that frigate is even still sailing around somewhere, all of its three and a half working guns pointed directly at the Peruvian scourge.  How can you have half of a working gun you may ask?  Welcome to Chile.

They had other nifty things on display, like hand-crafted model ships and actual chain and bar shot on display.  Chain shot is indeed quite the nifty thing.  Imagine two halves, or wholes in some cases, of a cannonball connected by a foot-long length of iron chain.  Now imagine that same thought in another thought where it is stuffed inside cannon and flung, with considerable force, at people you generally dislike.  I think you get the idea.  It’s mostly used for taking down rigging and tackle in an opposing ship but I’m sure you can imagine such a device’s affect on some poor sod whose only reason for being on the ship at that particular time was that he had a few too many drinks at entirely the wrong inn one evening.  This is also a lovely set of thoughts for someone attempting to find the most appropriate place for a marriage proposal, though leave it to me to pull out all the stops on such a day.

We did pass by one other thing that wasn’t entirely to do with people finding ingenious ways of offing one-another, which was a pleasant surprise.  They actually had the cage elevator that the Chilean government used to pull out all of those miners who were trapped underground for months.  Supposedly it took quite a long time to ride the thing up to the top.  We were able to step inside: I couldn’t imagine being raised for hours in such a small space in complete darkness.  I remember also that the workers were required to wear goggles or masks or the like to protect their eyes from the brightness of being outside.  It was a pleasant sight to know that not all the inventiveness of the human mind is spent on aggressive acts.

We finally ended our time at the museum and the full panic of the day began to hit me: the sun was beginning to go down and I still had no idea where I was going to propose.  I couldn’t just do it in the middle of the street or anything: Symbolism is important!  I decided I would try and find another high vantage point which might be suitable. I noticed to our left as we exited the museum that there seemed to be some cliffs in the distance so I decided in the moment that these would be my next target.  Brittany made to go in the opposite direction, however, and I suddenly felt my plans spoiled.  When all else fails, however, the tried and true option remains: make something up.  I explained that I wanted to go explore that side of the city because it seemed interesting or beautiful or something.  Anything, really, to get her to follow me.  This didn’t end exactly as I had hoped.

We spent the next hour or so wandering around sketchy places: abandoned buildings, dogs (not that there was anything surprising about that in Chile though), broken machinery, and other things not entirely found on the list of “Nice Things You Want to Remember on the Day You Were Proposed To”.  There was even a broken down funicular leading up to what appeared to be an abandoned building.  Much as I might be tempted to investigate such a place, it still didn’t seem to me the best sort of place for what I had in mind.  We continued, however, until we came to something of a ledge that curved around and down back towards the city center where we had come from.  At this point I resigned myself to not proposing on this particular day and, feeling rather at a loss, simply walked with Brittany back towards the bus station as the sun began to set.

We walked for some time, stopping once inside a shop for a quick drink, before we came to a very large staircase.  It extended far up one of the many hills of the city.  There must have been four or five flights of stairs there!  Being the sort always up for a challenge, I proceeded to run up the stairs two at a time.  Brittany, being the not-quite-so-foolish type, walked behind me.  When we reached the top we discovered a very interesting work of art: someone had decorated the topmost brick wall to look like one of the local buses, complete with passengers.  There was quite a bit of similar graffiti around, though more art than the typical “Jo waz Heer” or street gang nonsense.  Beautiful wasn’t quite the word, but interesting doesn’t do it quite enough justice.

Just past the top of the stairs, beyond a sports area where people were busy playing games, we came at last to the central point of my story.  We came, at last, to the place I knew I would propose to Brittany at.  It was an overlook, an old house-turned-museum.  Beyond a low stone wall the great sea expanded and the ships continued their slow meandering at the port.  The sun was setting.  No other people were around.  I knew, at last, that I had found an acceptable place.

 I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing it though.  I knew how people did it in movies, in books and stories, but I had never really expected to find myself in a similar situation.  I decided then to do things in my usual style and manner:  Wing it.  I took Brittany to the edge of the wall under the pretense of looking out to see.  We both admired the view.  There was a beat.  The rest of the world seemed to tune out, to fade away.  I could feel my heart trying to climb right out of my throat.  Now or never.  I knelt on two knees (because one just wasn’t enough!) and began a speech.  Honestly, I don’t remember much of it now: I know I spoke about how lucky I was, how I owed a lot to her for making me feel like a legitimate person, how I appreciated everything she did.  There was a lot.  In the end, I asked her to marry me. 

The rest is a bit of a blur.  She was excited, I was excited.  She accepted and we held each other near the amazing view of the sea.  It was then that we noticed an old man behind us near the gate, motioning at us to leave.  Seems we had stayed past the closing time!  Feeling elated and just a little bit awkward, we left and began our walk back to the station.  We boarded our bus and enjoyed the long, dark trip back.  Our lives had changed.  Changed for the better.  Most importantly, they had changed for the better at a special time in a special place in a special way.  After all, symbolism is important.