Dancing and Dresses

Despite going to bed early the day before, Mom and I managed to sleep until almost 10:00 a.m. the next day. Luckily, it was Saturday, which meant that the complimentary breakfast would be open until 11:00.  We were now well-rested, but very hungry (remember, we'd only eaten one meal the day before), so we threw on some clothes and headed down to breakfast.  When we'd arrived the day before, we'd see the breakfast area, and it looked just big enough to have coffee and maybe some toast.  To our surprise, what we'd thought was a wall was actually a giant door that opened into a large dining room with a breakfast buffet on an entire wall.  Of course, we went straight for the coffee.  Chile isn't known for having the best coffee, so we (especially me) had been feeling a bit deprived.  Argentina, on the other hand, was settled by a large population of Italians, so they can do coffee right.

Chilean Alfajores

Argentinian Alfajores

The breakfast was mostly a cold spread, with pastries, cakes, meats, and cheeses.  There were also some scrambled eggs and toast, and even a fresh fruit bar.  They had cereal available, but the bowls they provided were so tiny you would have needed about 5 of them to equal a "normal"-sized cereal bowl.  Most of the selection was a bit on the sweet side (they even had something that looked like pecan pie with chocolate and caramel), but we were still feeling adventurous (and very hungry) so we tried a little bit of everything.  We even got to try Argentinian alfajores--sugar cookies filled with dulce de leche and bathed in chocolate.  Alfajores exist in Chile, as well, but are a bit different.  The Chilean cookies are thinner and not as sweet, and are filled with manjar, which is thicker than dulce de leche.  Chilean alfajores also do not usually have chocolate, but are instead coated with coconut flakes.  The two types of cookies are so different, I can't really say I have a favorite.  Although the chocolate did go quite nicely with fresh coffee!

After getting our fill at breakfast, we headed back up to the room to shower and plan the rest of the day.  We decided to check out Parque San Martín, the oldest and largest park in Mendoza.  We figured it might be a good idea to get a map this time, though, so we stopped at the front desk on our way out to ask for one.  The map showed the whole city, but also seemed to have a pretty decent layout of the park, so we took it and made our way in that direction.

We passed by Plaza Independencia on the way over and heard some loud hip-hop music and saw a large crowd gathered in the center of the park.  We took a slight detour to see what was going on.  Turns out there was a youth dance competition, so we stuck around to watch for a while.  There was a new act starting just as we got there--a large group of middle-school aged girls doing a hip-hip routine.  We were a bit shocked by the vulgarity of the lyrics, but no one else seemed to be too concerned with it. I guess that's the beauty of not understanding English--you can play all the popular songs without worrying about offending anyone!  The girls were of varying skill levels, and there were a ton of them--about 30 all dancing together!  And the entire routine lasted over 15 minutes and through at least 4 different songs.  It was just as entertaining to watch the spectators cheer the girls on as it was to watch them dance.  We took a seat and thought we might stay for a while to watch the other acts, but when the first routine was done, a large camera crew came out onto the stage and started interviewing the dancers.  It would've been interesting to hear the interviews, but they weren't broadcast to the crowd, so everyone there just had to sit and wait until it was done.  It was a short interview--less than 10 minutes--and then the group left the stage.  It looked as if another group of older girls would go next, as they started arranging themselves on the stage.  They were just about set up when the camera crew once again came over and ushered them off to do some interviews off-stage.  This time, they started interviewing each girl individually.  We got bored after about 10 more minutes of waiting, and decided just to continue our trek to the park.

Along the way we passed through one of the more upscale neighborhoods of the city where high-profile people, such as politicians, live.  The houses were very large and gorgeous, although none of them seemed that old, which confused us a bit.  Mendoza was founded in 1561, and this was supposed to be the main part of the city, so we thought we'd have seen some older architecture.  We found out the reason we didn't during our trip to the history museum a few days later.  I'll explain that part in a while, but for now it must remain a mystery.

It took us a while to reach the park, but that was mostly because we had to stop fairly often to admire the mansions and also to say "hello" to some of the dogs that resided in their yards.  Eventually we arrived at the gates to the park, and immediately felt as if we had been transported back to 19th century Europe.  Apparently, that is exactly what the designers of the park wanted.  There are actually three gates--a large one in the middle with two smaller ones on each side.  The structure was actually designed in Scotland in the late 19th century for the Moorish Sultan Abdul Hamid II.  Unfortunately, his kingdom fell upon hard times, and the doors were left unfinished at the factory in Scotland.  That is, until the governor of Mendoza heard about them and decided to buy them from the fabricator and modify them with definite Mendocino flair.  They are made mostly of iron, and stands 22 feet at the highest point.  On each door, the coat of arms for the city is carved and painted gold.  On the top center is a statue of a condor, another symbol of the city of Mendoza.  They were installed in the park in the year 1907, just over a decade after the inauguration of the park in 1896.  It really is a splendor to see, especially with the beautiful green trees outlining the park and the snow-covered mountains in the distance.

We admired the gates for a few minutes before entering the park.  As we walked in, we saw a visitors' center off to the left and realized that we were actually quite thirsty.  We'd already walked a bit farther than expected, and it was about 85 degrees out.  We stopped over at the center to grab some water and see if we could find more information about the park.  We tried to get a more detailed map of just the park area, but couldn't find any.  We glanced at the large map on display and figured that we could just explore a bit and use our small map if we got lost.  The park was grand, but it didn't look unmanageable based on the map.  On the map we'd seen an icon for a zoo and thought it might be fun to check that out, so we began walking in approximately the correct direction.  We followed the main street within the park for a while, but began to get tired of the fumes let off by all the cars and buses.  There were some trails leading into the forest, so we though we'd try for a shortcut through one of them.  There were only about five streets marked on our map, and none of the pedestrian trails were marked, but we figured it wouldn't be too hard to make it as long as we continued towards the direction of the zoo.

We walked for another 45 minutes or so and passed through a couple playgrounds full of children, some exercise areas, a large parking lot, and even through a row of families barbecuing in preparation for the lunch crowd, but still didn't come upon the zoo.  We sat down to take a look at the map, thinking that we must have been nearly at the other end of the park by now.  We sat next to a large building surrounded by barbed-wire fences, but couldn't manage to find it on the map.  Eventually we found some street signs and saw that we had made it about a third of the way to the zoo, and had made even less progress towards the end of the park.  Of course, we only realized much later that the entire park covers nearly 400 hectares, and that a large portion of that is a very steep hill with a tense tree cover.  We probably made the right decision when we decided to forgo the zoo and head back into town.

By this time it was early afternoon and we were getting thirsty again.  We remembered seeing a coffeeshop on the street leading to the park, so we went back the same way to stop there for a break after our two hour adventure in Parque San Martín.  We found a nice spot in the shade on the patio and sat down to relax.  Mom ordered a Diet Coke, and I ordered a cappuccino.  We didn't realize it at the time, but we had just started our Mendoza tradition--a mid-afternoon break every day for soda and coffee.  I tried to get a photo of every coffee I ordered throughout the week to compare them, but there were a few times when my need for caffeine outweighed my desire to find a camera.  I did manage to get a photo of this one, though, and I must say that I believe it was the best one of the trip.

www.damen.nl

While enjoying our drinks, we chatted about the day and plans for the rest of the week.  A young man about my age sitting across the patio overheard us speaking English and asked us where we were from.  He was relieved to meet some other English-speakers, because he was from Holland and was only in South America for a short time to visit a friend.  His friend was ill that day, so he was on his own.  He heard us talking about the park, and asked us for some advice because that's where he was headed next.  We started out talking between the tables, but eventually we just invited him to come over and sit with us.  His name is Kun, and turns out he graduated from university last year and has been working for an international ship-building company called Damen ever since.  It was really interesting talking to him and learning about how ship-building works!  He even got to spend two weeks at the factory in Romania just to see how everything goes together.  We talked with him for a while and gave him some advice for South America, and he gave us some for Europe.  We talked for quite a while, but eventually said our good-byes (and warned him about conserving his energy if he wandered in the park), and went our separate ways.

Kun headed off for his adventure in the park, and we went back for some more tranquil shopping downtown.  We browsed some of the shops for a bit and bought some odds and ends souvenirs for friends and family (well, mostly Mom did.  I'm not that nice).  We were still pretty tired out from our excursion to the park, so we started heading back to the hotel around 5:00.  Before we'd left for Argentina, I'd shown Mom some of the ideas I had for wedding dresses, so (unbeknownst to me), she'd been keeping her eye out for some dress shops.  Right as we turned off from the main shopping street, she saw exactly what she was looking for.  There was a small boutique shop with a beautiful blue dress displayed in the window.  It was more of a fancy beach dress, with a large floral print and beading on the bust and straps.  It wasn't exactly what I'd been thinking of for a dress, but I did know that I didn't want a simple white one.

I'm not really into clothing, especially not formal outfits, but Mom convinced me to go inside and look at some of the dresses.  The shop was more of a formal/quince shop rather than a wedding shop; in fact, I don't recall seeing any white dresses at all!  It was also quite small--there were only two racks of dresses on display, and apparently they had a small storage closet in the back where they kept a few other ones.  I only hate trying on clothing a little less than I hate trying on shoes, so I agreed to go in and take a look but nothing more.  Of course, try saying that to a mother who's excited about her daughter's wedding.  And this might actually be the last time we see each other before the actual wedding, so Mom really wanted to at least see me in some dresses.  After much coercing, I agreed to try on a few, just so she could see them.

We asked about the one in the window, but apparently all the pieces are one-of-a-kind and that one was already sold.  Instead, Mom pulled out a purple gown with one beaded strap.  I'd never imagined myself in a dress of that style, but I tried it on anyways.  I did really enjoy the color!  It was a size 10, so the saleswoman really had to pull it in an put clips on it so that it didn't fall off.  I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, although felt a bit nervous when they had me come out to step on the podium in front of the windows.  Not only was it way too wide for me, it was also quite long and I nearly killed myself taking the four steps out of the dressing room and onto the podium.  It looked pretty good, but I really wasn't thinking about buying dresses; I was mostly just trying them on to humor Mom.  I thought I could get one on and that would be enough, but by the time I came out, she already had three more picked out for me to try!  The next one was similar to the one in the window, but the straps crossed over each other in the front and were made entirely out of large (heavy) beads.  It was very colorful, but it seemed more appropriate for a beach setting.  I liked it as well, but once again it was about 8 sizes too large, and the crossing straps at the front bunched up.  This only served to make me look like a 6-year-old trying on mother's clothing.  I reluctantly came out onto the podium, and everyone agreed that this wasn't the dress for me.  "Good," I thought, "we can be done now."  Not quite; now Mom handed me a light pink strapless dress with silver and pink flowered beading on the bust.  The skirt can only be described as "fairy-like"--it was straight when I stood still, but whenever I moved a little it flowered out in all different directions.  It was still much too big, but when I walked out of the dressing room with that one on, everyone (including the other customers) gasped and agreed that this was "the dress."

I wasn't really sure, and I definitely didn't want to make such a quick decision, so I asked the owner, Monica, if we could come back in a day or two.  She said we could, but that if I wanted to have the dress ready before we left town on Wednesday, they'd have to start altering it soon.  I was really reluctant to decide at that point, especially since the dress was so different from what I'd been picturing in my mind.  As I was about to just say "no," the seamstress came in and saw me in the dress.  Monica asked her about alterations, and they both agreed to take my measurements for the dress, just in case I did decide I wanted to buy it.  By now it was around 6:30, and the store was going to close at 9:00.  They said they'd pin up the dress for alteration, and that if I let them know before closing they'd get started on it right away.  If not, I had no obligation at all.  Mom was really excited about the dress, and took some pictures so that we could show Jaimee and get some fashion advice before making the final decision.  As you can see by my expressions, I was a bit overwhelmed by how fast everything seemed to be moving.

The seamstress had me stand back up at the podium to pin up the dress, and as she did she asked me about the occasion.  I told her and Monica that the dress was for a wedding, and they inquired whose.  When I told them that it would be for my own, they both gasped and squealed, shocked that a bride would wear such a thing.  I thought they might try to convince me not to do it at first, but then Monica's eyes lit up and she ran off towards the storage closet, yelling "don't move!"  I thought, "uh oh, here she comes with a 'real' wedding dress and I'm probably going to have to put it on just to please everyone."  Instead, she'd pulled out the most stunning princess gown.  "Now this," she said, "would be perfect for a bride."  It did look more like a "traditional" wedding dress, but that was kind of what I'd been trying to avoid.  Everyone just looked so excited, though, so I agreed to try it on before we rushed home to ask Jaimee about the other dress.

When I put the dress on, it fit perfectly right away, no clips needed.  That was a definite plus, not having to worry about it falling off as I stood on the podium to show it off.  Even before I came out of the dressing room, I felt like a princess.  And despite being strapless, it was actually quite comfortable (except for the bag of extra beads that they had stuffed inside of it to hide as I showed it off to everyone).  This one was pink, which wasn't really the color I'd originally had in mind, but it looked beautiful anyway.  The top part was a shaped corset that hugged my body just perfectly and was adorned with hundreds of small beads.  Beneath the beading was the silk corset with a beaded flower accent.  The skirt was very princess-like, and poofed out just enough to give me the "perfect" figure.  It gave way at the bottom, giving the look of a small train.  Everyone fell silent as I stepped up to the podium, and even I had to agree that it took my breath away (and just not because it was tight-fitting).  It was completely, 100% opposite of everything that I'd had in mind, but it was gorgeous.  The seamstress took a look at it and said that it really didn't have to be altered at all--maybe just shortening the skirt if I wanted to wear flat shoes.  She could definitely have it done by Wednesday, no sweat.

Of course by now it was 7:30 and we still wanted to get back to the hotel to quickly ask Jaimee's opinion on the fashion and Dad's opinion on the price.  And I was so overwhelmed, I felt like I wasn't even in my own body anymore.  The Brittany I know doesn't wear poofy, pink princess dresses, even if it is her wedding.  But she had also never felt so beautiful.  This was quite a dilemma.  I was very flustered, and Mom was so excited, so we rushed back to the hotel to get the opinions quickly.  We couldn't get a hold of Dad, but Jaimee gave us the go-ahead, and Mom also agreed that it was perfect.  I don't think I can even make a decision about lunch this quickly, but I decided to go for it.  We hurried back towards the shop, only to realize that we'd left in such a flurry that we didn't remember the street it was on!  We only got slightly lost, and managed to get back to the store just before closing.  We told Monica the good news, and she sent me next door with her saleswoman to run the credit card.

While we were gone, Mom somehow managed to tell the whole story to Monica (even though she doesn't speak Spanish and Monica doesn't speak English--I have no idea how she keeps doing that!).  It really is a great story, and I'm sure we'll have lots more to add onto it as the years go by.  So far, we've gotten engaged in Chile, bought a wedding dress from Argentina, will be married in the U.S., and then live in the U.K.  The rest of the story is a mystery, and I can't wait to find out how it unfolds.

Meat Me in Mendoza

We woke up at 5:15 Friday morning to get ready in time to catch the shuttle I had reserved a couple weeks before to take us to the airport.  Even though the flight wasn't supposed to leave until 9:30, the shuttle company always schedules extra time, just in case.  We were supposed to get picked up outside the apartment at 6:15, so we went downstairs a few minutes early to wait.  It was pretty cold outside, and when the shuttle hadn't arrived by 6:30, we were starting to get a bit nervous.  I called the shuttle company to confirm that they were on their way, and they couldn't find our reservation!  I was really surprised, because I've been using this company for every trip I've taken in Chile, and for when Scott and Mom came to visit, and I've never had any problems whatsoever.  I'd actually only taken a taxi once here in Santiago, and that was when I moved from the hostel to the boarding house.  The hostel had arranged that for me, but I'm not really comfortable using the taxis alone (I'm not sure how to tell which ones are legitimate), so I went inside to ask the concierge to call one for us.

www.elautoperfecto-taxis.blogspot.com

Of course, the one one duty was the one that I've had some "conflicts" with, so he wasn't all that excited to help me out.  Ever since we resolved our differences, he has pretty much ignored me (which is fine with me), but I really wanted to be sure that I got the right taxi.  When I asked for help, he kind of looked at me like I was stupid and asked me why I didn't just get one outside.  I explained that I didn't know which ones were safe (I remember the last time in Chile that some of the people in my program got into some big problems when they chose the wrong cab company).  He still gave me "that look," but came out exasperatedly and pulled over a cab for us.

www.foroaviones.com

It actually turned out better to get the cab, because it was only a few dollars extra, and we ended up getting to the airport more quickly than we had expected.  This turned out to be a definite advantage, because what I hadn't realized when looking at our tickets the day before was that even though the plane was owned by Iberia, it was operated by LAN.  We didn't have any luggage, so we'd planned just to use the self-service kiosks and go straight through security.  Apparently, however, that is not allowed on flights shared between different companies.  I tried to check-in at both the Iberia and LAN kiosks, but neither could find our reservations.  I was a bit nervous because our reservations weren't found by the website the day before, either, but I'd called the company and had been assured that they'd had the reservations. While I tried one last attempt at the automated kiosk, Mom got in line for the check-in counter, just in case.  The line was so long that it had to snake through the queue reserved for the next airline over, and then still came nearly out the door.  With no luck from the machines, Mom suggested that I try at the LAN ticket sales counter to at least confirm that they had the reservation.  The line there was much shorter than at the check-in, and I only had to wait for one person in front of me.  I handed the woman all of my reservation information, and there were a few tense moments when she couldn't find the reservation.  Eventually she managed to find it and assured me that we were confirmed.  However, our only option to get our tickets would be to stand in line.  I thanked her for her help and went back to find Mom

www.practicallyathome.blogspot.com

By this time it was about 7:45 and Mom had moved about three inches since I last saw her.  At the rate the line was moving, we were worried that we wouldn't make it to our gate on time.  But we really didn't have any other choice, so we got in line and waited.  And waited.  And then just for something different, we waited some more.  Luckily, the attendants were really good at paying attention to flight times, and were walking through the line, pulling people whose flights were leaving soon.  We waited about another hour, and were finally near the front of the line.  There were only about three more groups in front of us when the attendant starting walking through and calling our flight.  He pulled us and we got to skip ahead of those three groups--woo hoo!  Once we got to the counter, we once again faced some anxiety when they couldn't find our reservations in their system.  Of course, it worked out that we got a trainee as well.  I mean, you've got to learn sometime, but I'm not sure that putting a new person out during the busiest travel week of the year at the same time the electronic systems are being completely overhauled is the best idea.  Eventually, she and her mentor managed to find our reservation and get everything smoothed out.

www.blackdresstraveler.com

It was about 9:00 by the time we got to the security checkpoint, but luckily, that part was easy.  We didn't have to take out our electronics, we didn't have to take off our shoes or jackets, and we didn't even have to empty our pockets!  There wasn't even a line to get through, so that part only took a couple minutes.   Of course, on the other side we had to fill out some international documents to leave the country.  We were a bit frazzled because no one had given us any forms to fill out, but we found them in a basket at the end of line.  I felt very special because I got to fill out the "resident" form, and I actually didn't even need to use my passport because I had a Chilean national ID.  Mom got a little nervous when the control agent took away the form she had filled out upon entering Chile, but she promised that she would get a new one upon returning to Chile.  

We got through all the steps and finally arrived at our gate just a few minutes before the flight was due to take off.  The area was already pretty full, but we found two open seats near a mother and her toddler.  I left to buy Mom a soda, and by the time I came back, she was friends with both the mother and her child.  They played together for a bit while we waited for boarding to begin.  It was incredibly foggy outside--we couldn't even see the plane outside the window--so that delayed the boarding a little.   Eventually, they called for pre-boarding, so the mother took her baby up to start boarding.  Shortly thereafter, they called for general boarding and we got in line.  They got about half of the people through, but when I went to give my ticket to the attendant, she told me to wait.

www.ajaccioairport.com

We figured they were just waiting for the congestion on the bridge to lighten up, but Mom went over to the window and saw that they weren't using a bridge.  Our plane was actually out in the field, so they were going to put people on buses to transport them to it.  However, there was apparently something wrong with the first bus, so they sent it away while they just left everyone waiting outside.  It was really cold out, and of course most of the people out there were the pre-boarders, i.e. elderly and infants.  After about ten minutes, a woman came back up the walk and started yelling at the counter attendants.  Apparently, she was the mother of one of the very young infants and was getting concerned about the wait.  The attendants tried to calm her down, but said they really didn't know when the bus would be ready.  They told her just to wait at the top, out of the wind.  Mom was the last person whose ticket had been scanned, so she was also at the top, waiting for me.  She and the woman commiserated about the wait, even though neither spoke each other's language.  I'm always amazed at how Mom can connect with just about anyone, even through a language barrier!  

www.absoluteastronomy.com

The wait started to drag on, and people from the back of the boarding line started to come up to ask what was going on.  The counter agent started to sound like a broken record, so many people kept coming up. I'm not sure why she didn't just announce it, but it was interesting to watch as her attitude deteriorated with each new person.  I'm pretty sure she was the most relieved of everyone when she finally received the notice that the bus was ready.  We were all shuffled into the bus and shuttled over to the plane.  We found our seats and got settled in for the short flight over the mountains.  I'm disappointed that I didn't have my camera available for the flight (they'd made us put everything into the overhead bins because we were in an exit row).  The view of the Andes was amazing!  There really is no way to describe the vastness of the mountain range.  We flew over them for about 20 minutes, which is a really long time to be over mountains when you're moving that fast!  It really was breathtaking!  I don't have my own picture, but this one from an online encyclopedia is a great representation of what we saw.  The view helped relax us a bit after all the excitement of the morning.

We arrived to the Mendoza airport a bit before 11:00.  The airport is really small, and we were the only incoming flight at that time.  We were seated in the middle of the plane, but somehow we ended up near the end of the line for passport control.  Even though we were only one flight, there were only two people working the booths--one for Argentinians, and one for foreigners.  And of course there were a lot more foreigners than Argentinians.  The wait to get to the front took another half an hour or so, but we got through it without too much trouble.  Then, we had to wait in another line to get through customs, but that only took about ten minutes.  Nonetheless, we were definitely ready to be done by the time we got out of the airport.  We got a taxi to our hotel, and were surprised that it only cost 25 pesos ($5USD).

We were also quite surprised that the driver spoke English very well.  He asked us where we were from, and told us that he had lived in Florida for ten years.  He was really nice, and even drove out of his way to show us around town (without charging extra, either).  He gave us some advice on the best things to do in the area.  Even though we were tired and didn't really want to talk at first, we couldn't help it with him, he was just so friendly and happy!  It was a great way to be welcomed to this new country.

We arrived at the hotel just before noon.  Check-in didn't start until 12:00, so we sat on the nice leather couches in the lobby while we waited for the last-minute preparations on the room.  We got a room on the 8th floor with a great view of the city and the mountains in the distance.  We got settled into the room, and realized that we were really hungry!  We hadn't eaten anything except a piece of bread each, so we decided that the next step should be to find some lunch.  We headed out to find a good place.

We were so hungry that we stopped at the first place that we saw.  It was a warm, beautiful day, so we sat on the outside patio.  The waiter was very attentive, and patient with us and our questions.  Being in wine country, we of course started out with some local red wine.  And the only thing better than Argentinian wine is Argentinian meat.  We decided to go all out and order the parrillada for two.  It was a big platter with a variety of meats prepared in traditional Argentinian fashion.  When we ordered it, the waiter tried to tell us that we wouldn't like it, but we were feeling adventurous and went for it anyway.  We overestimated our stomachs, because we only ended up being able to eat about half of this "meal for two" (bodybuilders, apparently).

The meal came out in two segments--the first course included such delicacies as choricillo (spiced sausage), morcilla (blood sausage), molleja (calve's glands), riñones (kidneys), and chinchulines (pig intestines).  We must have been really hungry, because not only did we eat most of that, we actually enjoyed it!  The only thing we agreed to not really like was the molleja, because it was just very greasy.  But we were proud of ourselves for trying anyway!  And I think we surprised the waiter, too!  He's probably used to tourists ordering this dish and then complaining that it's too exotic.  After we finished off the more exotic meats, we were served the more "normal" ones--ribs, veal, and chicken.  They were all really delicious, but we were so full from our first course that we didn't manage to eat much of that course.  The waiter was nice enough to wrap it up to go for us.

www.igdigital.com

We finished up our meal and were feeling very satisfied when we realized that we didn't actually have any Argentinian cash.  That was fine, because we could pay the check with a credit card, but the waiter told us that tips had to be left in cash.  He had been so attentive and helpful to us that we wanted to make sure to leave a tip, so Mom stayed at the table while I walked to the casino a couple blocks away to use the ATM.  Of course, ATMs only give very large bills and while the waiter had been great, a 75% tip was a bit much.  So, after getting the cash I continued walking in search of a place to get some change.  I found a small convenience store and bought a 2-liter soda to keep in our room.  It didn't come out to an exact amount, and the cashier asked if I had any small change.  I didn't, and she didn't have enough in her drawer, so she ended up selling me some yogurt candy to make up for the change.

Eventually, I made my way back to restaurant with the right change to leave a tip.  The waiter was very gracious (and even went out of his way to say "hello" to us when we saw his the following days).  By the time everything was settled up, it was nearly 3:30, but we were much more satisfied and relaxed.  We were tired out from our trip, but decided to try to keep going a bit longer before heading in.  We walked towards the downtown area and shopped a bit, and just generally enjoyed the nice weather.  In the main plaza of the town, Plaza Independencia, we found some artisan stands and picked out some nice souvenirs from the vendors there.  It was really nice, too, because the artisans were really friendly and a lot of them even chatted with us.  We met another person who had lived in the U.S. for a while (New York for this one), and also quite a high proportion of Chileans who moved from Santiago to get away from all the commotion.  I can definitely understand that!  Mendoza is a fairly large city (population around 2 million), but it definitely has a much more relaxed atmosphere than Santiago.

After our shopping excursion, we headed back to the hotel to finally slow down for the day.  We got back around 7 and thought about getting dinner, but were too stuffed to do more than that.  We actually didn't end up eating anything else for the rest of the night, we were so full!  We got settled in, put on our pjs, and just relaxed for the rest of the night before going to bed early, exhausted but satisfied from our first day in Argentina.  

Mom's Visit!

www.origamichile.cl

Happy Chilean Independence Day!  Well, next week, officially.  Mom came down for a visit during the holidays (because I don't have to work the entire week), and we decided to take the opportunity to enjoy some relaxing outside of Santiago.  I'm a little disappointed we're missing out on the Fiestas Patrias in Chile, but from what I've heard, it probably would have held our interest for a few hours and then we would have had enough.  While the official Independence in on September 18, Chileans start celebrating as early as the 13 or 14 with outdoor festivals in parks and other open areas called "fondas."   While I can't give exact details as I've never been, it sounds a lot like Oktoberfest in Wisconsin!  There's a lot of drinking (terremotos), sausages (choripan), and dancing (the cueca).  Granted, the details are a bit different, but it's basically a big festival where more than a few people get drunk.  I've posted a picture from a Chilean blog.  One of the concierges here really wants us to go to a fonda, and reminds of us them every time he sees us (there is one still today that will go until about 10:00, but we're a bit tired from our travels).  It's a great time to get shocked into Chilean culture all at once, and I hope that I'll be able to experience it sometime, but I'm very glad we went to Mendoza this time.

Mom actually arrived Wednesday the twelfth, and I still had a few days of school to get through before the start of the holiday.  Luckily for me (but not so much for my students), it was testing week so I didn't have too much to prepare.  Of course, now I have a bunch of grading to do, but that's another story!  I started a new incentive system in the form of coupons to use as extra points on the tests, but unfortunately implementing the system has been more complicated than I anticipated.  I'm preparing myself for lots of "but it's just not fair!"  But that would happen whether or not I had a good grading system.  As you can see, I'm not really looking forward to going back to school quite yet, but I still have four more days to get used to the idea.

www.duoc.cl

Anyways, Mom got in early in the morning while I was at class, but I'd left my keys for her so that she could get into my apartment.  I came home between classes to meet up with her after her long trip.  I was really excited to see her--we hadn't seen each other since last Christmas!  She greeted me as I walked in the door, and almost immediately showered me with gifts.  The best one was a Kindle reader that Mom and Dad had gotten me for my birthday.  It arrived just in time, too, because I had just finished my very last book the night before.  She also gave me some really beautiful earrings, and some tea from the Celestial Seasonings factory in Colorado.  I gave her the gifts I'd been saving from Easter Island.  After our exchange, we decided to head out to lunch at the mall so that she could see my school at the same time.  She even got to meet a couple of my students (who even spoke to her in English).  After that, she was definitely feeling the effects of having traveled for nearly an entire day, and went home to rest while I finished up the rest of the school day.

The next day was also pretty uneventful as I went to class and Mom tried to get rid of her jet lag in time to start traveling again on Wednesday.  She did have a bit of excitement, though, when she went up to the rooftop deck to relax and saw one of the housekeepers sweeping on the other side.  She went over to say "hello," but the woman was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice Mom walk up and nearly jumped out of her skin when Mom reached out and touched her shoulder.  Of course, the episode became instantly famous throughout the building, and I heard about it upon my return from the concierge before I even had the chance to see Mom!  But now she and the housekeeper are friends (of course)!   And the fame doesn't hurt either.

Other than that bit of excitement, it was a pretty quiet day, relaxing and getting ready for our departure to Mendoza early the next morning.  Dad had sent us an email from LAN saying that they were changing their electronic ticketing systems and that travelers should get to the airport 4 hours early in case of delays due to the change.  We were nervous at first, but then I looked at my e-receipt and saw that our flight was through Iberia, so we ignored the warning.  I should have looked a bit closer...

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.

otoolefan.wordpress.com

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.

www.k9ring.com

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.

www.wikipedia.com

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.