Wooooosh! I cannae believe I've only got a week left in Cheelay - me Sarf American adventure is coming to an end *sob sob, sniff sniff*. Actually, it's not really that tearful, but more of that later. Time for a wee recap mefinks...
...after what could only have seemed like an eternity, my beloved Christophe arrives in the land of the Latinos on the 19th May. Naturally, someone decides it would be a good idea for Santiago to undergo several days of continuous heavy rain, much to Cristobal's disgust - "It's not a proper holiday if there ain't no sunshine!" Luckily for us, it isn't long before we head off to the Inka-tastic city of Cuzco, Peru. Foolishly enough, I decide we should have people over for drinkskis before our 6am flight, so no sleep for us. We finally arrive after a convoluted plane journey, and the high altitude takes a little getting used to - a warm cup of "mate de coca" helps when we get to our hostel, a drink of cocoa leaves in hot water that alleviates the usual symptoms of headaches and nausea. It's a beautiful place though, all narrow streets set on steep hills with mucho original Inka architectural details.
The next morning, it's straight onto the Machu Picchu backpacker express. British Rail this ain't - the first half hour involves plenty of back-and-forth action and the whole journey is kinda jerky; naturally, tis all part of the experiencia. We get to Aguas Calientes, the little pueblo situated close to the famous ruins, and proceed to discover the joys of Latin American small-town efficiency: there's only one cash machine in town and it's out of dinero. As we're on a tight schedule, this almost spells complete disaster. Fortunately, the charming receptionist at our hotel proves to be a lifesaver, as her restaurant-owner friend agress to sort us out a cash-back type deal. The locals are just a teensy bit in-your-face when it comes to touting their establishments; after walking up and down the main drag several times, one of them even cries out to us: "Why you no eat something?!"
Machu Picchu itself is utterly stunning, as expected. As per usual, however, the animals steal the show - we encounter possibly the cutest dog ever, christened Machu Poochy by some middle-aged American ladies, and the llamas scattered around the sight are alternately adorable and amoosing. The following day, we embark on an epic tour of "The Sacred Valley of the Incas", complete with Ernie, our delightful guide. We may not understand every word he says, but his infectious laugh totally wins us over. At the all-inclusive buffet lunch, I try "ceviche", the Peruvian speciality of fish cooked only in lemon juice. All very tasty, but the next day we're both suffering/throwing up. Hmmm, maybe the hair in the apple pie was a giveaway...
One whirlwind of a trip is followed immediately by another: time to return to Good Airs and show Chris the wonders of possibly my favourite city on the continent. We are blessed with another entertaining guide on our city tour, mainly due to her hilariously over-the-top sing-songy intonation when she says "Buuueeeenos Aiiiiiires". We take advantage of the opportunity to eat plenty of the best steak in the world - our good friend Stefano takes us to an all-you-can-eat restaurant where you can have as much meat and salad as you want, a bottle of wine or litre of beer each AND a delicious dessert, all for around 7 quid - que bargainous! We also make it to one of the strangest places I've been to so far, Tierra Santa. Described as a "religious theme park", it contains sculptural recreations of all the major biblical events, as well as some dramatically creaky shows such as Creation - who knew it had such an impressive laser light show - and the Nativity. All in all: a truly indescribable tack-fest.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
I said brrrrrr...
...it's cold in here! Damn this reverse-seasons malarkey - the house is f-f-frrrrozen and one ropey old gas heater between four is not exactly suficiente. El Schmoof is ready to go into hibernation mode, armed only with a stripey-jumpered hot water bottle and a limitless supply of tea.
The pace has certainly picked up at the not-so-British institute. The week before last I was finally given some kind of proper schedule, albeit one which involved running around from class to class with half-hour slots, frequently consisting of students of all ages asking me why the hell I had actually chosen to come to Cheelay and whether I liked it or not. Naturally, I didn't reveal that my first choice had been Argentina - perish the thought - and responded by gushing praise on all things chileno. How very sincere of me.
I've also taught three lessons in the past fortnight - something of a mixed blessing - as it seems to be teacher-get-sick season, and I seem to be Mr. Rent-a-Subsitute all of a sudden. The first arrived with a mere fifteen minutes notice and, given that it was a Regular 1 class i.e. total beginners, I was more than a wee bit panicked. I managed to pull it off though, and even though the students may not have understood every single instruction, I was pretty proud of meself for not totally messing it up. The second, an advanced conversation session, was enjoyable, even though the group included both a snobby intellectual and a smelly mentalist. The third was the killer though - a 3-hour Saturday morning endurance test with eight over-excitable young learners. "Complete and utter nightmare" doesn't begin to do it justice...
You know how the saying goes: work hard, play harder. Well, that's more-or-less it - one of my housemates went as far to say that he only ever seemed to see me in the kitchen with a hangover. It's surprisingly easy for a few innocent "piscolas" to turn into an epic night, especially when you've got some bad influences around *ahem*. Last weekend was not quite so spontaneous, however; for a while, us British Council language assistant types have complained of a lack of good hip hop clubs in Santiago, so we decided to have an originally-named "Bling Bling" party to remedy this drought. There were some truly blinding outfits, mucho dancing with attitude and just a few crrrunk moments to top it all off. Did I mind being surrounded by a posse of foxy laydees? I'll leave that to you to decide.
The pace has certainly picked up at the not-so-British institute. The week before last I was finally given some kind of proper schedule, albeit one which involved running around from class to class with half-hour slots, frequently consisting of students of all ages asking me why the hell I had actually chosen to come to Cheelay and whether I liked it or not. Naturally, I didn't reveal that my first choice had been Argentina - perish the thought - and responded by gushing praise on all things chileno. How very sincere of me.
I've also taught three lessons in the past fortnight - something of a mixed blessing - as it seems to be teacher-get-sick season, and I seem to be Mr. Rent-a-Subsitute all of a sudden. The first arrived with a mere fifteen minutes notice and, given that it was a Regular 1 class i.e. total beginners, I was more than a wee bit panicked. I managed to pull it off though, and even though the students may not have understood every single instruction, I was pretty proud of meself for not totally messing it up. The second, an advanced conversation session, was enjoyable, even though the group included both a snobby intellectual and a smelly mentalist. The third was the killer though - a 3-hour Saturday morning endurance test with eight over-excitable young learners. "Complete and utter nightmare" doesn't begin to do it justice...
You know how the saying goes: work hard, play harder. Well, that's more-or-less it - one of my housemates went as far to say that he only ever seemed to see me in the kitchen with a hangover. It's surprisingly easy for a few innocent "piscolas" to turn into an epic night, especially when you've got some bad influences around *ahem*. Last weekend was not quite so spontaneous, however; for a while, us British Council language assistant types have complained of a lack of good hip hop clubs in Santiago, so we decided to have an originally-named "Bling Bling" party to remedy this drought. There were some truly blinding outfits, mucho dancing with attitude and just a few crrrunk moments to top it all off. Did I mind being surrounded by a posse of foxy laydees? I'll leave that to you to decide.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Catchai la wea?
After just over a month of doing very little at the British Institute, I finally got put in charge of three workshops on fridays - one each for adults, teens and *shudder* young learners. One of the sessions for adults is called "Singalong: learn to sing songs in English from all the eras"... I mean what. the. fook. As it happens, only one 11 year-old turned up for young learners, and I was forced to improvise card games and suchlike in order to keep him entertained for an hour. I was told to expect a crappy turnout but even so, tis just a wee bit dispiriting. What's a gringo got to do to teach some Engleesh round here?! Things have got so desperate that at one point I even said "I'm here to be used!" to a bunch of bemused teachers in the staff room, and thus a running joke was born
Tings in the big designer house are going purrrty good - one of me housemates, called Paloma, is quite simply da bomba; some have said she's like my fairy godmother, and that ain't no bad thing I tell thee. Last friday, while bored as hell during the aforementioned non-existent workshops, I got a text from another housemate, Federico, which said, quite simply: "Viernes de ron?" i.e. "Friday of rum?" I was like, "Yes please!" This ended up turning into a full-blown partay and, unlike on previous occasions, I got fully involved - had a lil boogie and chatted shite to random strangers. Once again, I had to be in for work bright and early the next morning, but this time I actually made it! Naturally, I spent most of the time staring at the clock, willing time to speed up so I could get back to my mega-comfy bed.
That night, I finally made a pilgrimage to "La Piojera", a Santiago institution that has served as a traditional drinking establishment for generations upon generations of drunkards. My amiga Alex and I decided to be well aufentic and sample the typical tipple, which is aptly named "Terremoto" = "Earthquake". Made up of box-quality white wine and a splodge of pineapple ice cream, it certainly was iiiiiinteresting... definitely one of those drinks that gets better the more you drink it, if ya know what I mean. We were surrounded by another Chilean speciality: couples who appear to be trying to completely consume each other's faces - yuck.
This magical experience was followed up with a mahoosive benefit concert in aid of Patagonia, and as you'd expect it was full of dirty hippy socialist types. Frenzied dancing quickly ensued, though by 3:30 the terremoto's had definitely taken their toll and we decided to call it a night. Suffice to say, the next day, after two nights of solid "carrete" and very little sleep, I was just a wee bit zomibified.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Dónde esta mi mente?
Here I am in smoggy Santiago, three weeks after the gran aventura... and it's been weird being back. Everything is vaguely familiar yet very different at the same time, given that five of my best mates have left and I'm starting afresh in more than one sense. Ah well, I guess I can take some comfort in the fact that the sun is still shining while the UK sounds like it's turned into the equivalent of a walk-in freezer - moohaha.
My new house is fantasticoco, although the high cool quotient of my new housemates has left me feeling like the clumsy, bumbling gringo that I am. One night during the first week, we all shared a bottle of wine on the patio - with boyfriends included. So there I was, Schmoo and six Chilenos all talking 100 words per minute about random TV celebrities... suffice to say I got just a wee bit lost after three months of talking very little espaneesh. Rrrrita the fierce feline has also made her presence known - on my first night here she attacked my arm! Apparently, losing her leg "calmed her down" quite a bit - I shudder to think how bonkers she must have been beforehand.
That same day, after a tedious meeting for work to mark the start of the semester, we headed out to a bar, then another one, then a third, ending up at a random flat party where I proceeded to display my werewolf arm hair and dance very badly. I was meant to be in work at 9am the next day - guess what? I didn't make it. Thankfully, my boss didn't seem to mind too much - she was too busy with interviews and the like so ph-ph-ph-phhhew!
My new house is fantasticoco, although the high cool quotient of my new housemates has left me feeling like the clumsy, bumbling gringo that I am. One night during the first week, we all shared a bottle of wine on the patio - with boyfriends included. So there I was, Schmoo and six Chilenos all talking 100 words per minute about random TV celebrities... suffice to say I got just a wee bit lost after three months of talking very little espaneesh. Rrrrita the fierce feline has also made her presence known - on my first night here she attacked my arm! Apparently, losing her leg "calmed her down" quite a bit - I shudder to think how bonkers she must have been beforehand.
Da new job is only twenty minutes walk away, and so far has consisted of marking tests, giving a few interviews and teaching a class of teenagers - not exactly the most responsive bunch in the world, as you might imagine. Good good news though: after a 5-month delay - this is Sarf America after all - my old uni finally paid me. I'm a millionaire (okay, maybe not by UK standards but still)! This joyous day coincided with festivities to welcome new first years, so I had the chance to see some old faces and have a few drinkskis in between signing for cheques. Naturally, psycho-stalker girl appeared out of nowhere and wouldn't leave my side - uh oh.
That same day, after a tedious meeting for work to mark the start of the semester, we headed out to a bar, then another one, then a third, ending up at a random flat party where I proceeded to display my werewolf arm hair and dance very badly. I was meant to be in work at 9am the next day - guess what? I didn't make it. Thankfully, my boss didn't seem to mind too much - she was too busy with interviews and the like so ph-ph-ph-phhhew!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Los locos
...ahhh Iguazu. Words cannot really do it justice but, according to me guidebook, "Eleanor Roosevelt remarked 'poor Niagra' on witnessing them (they are four times wider)", which I think pretty much sums it up. I have to cross the border like three times, as there are national parks on both the Brazilian and the Argentinian sides, so there's mucho "stampy stampy" action. We take a boat trip and get a soaking directly under the falls - very welcome as it is uber hot - and also manage to see weird racoon-type creatures, beautiful butterflies, mahoosive spiders, an iguana and a crocodile.
Next stop: Buenos Aiiires, as Stefano puts it. We get picked up by possibly the nicest taxi driver in the history of the world, and I proceed to enjoy a whirlwind three days in the trendy Argentine capital, taking in an incredibly cheeesy but entertaining tango show, Kosher Maccy D's and the unforgettable Barbie House, which has a café, beauty salon and playroom - everything a certain 17 (ahem) year-old north-west London girl could possibly dream of! I also turn the ripe old age of 22 there, and my birfday celebrations involve free champage and mucho pool-playing success - moohaha.
After a most pleasant flight of non-stop turbulence, la kikster and I arrive in Santiago just a little the worse for wear. We manage to squeeze in going up the virgin - i.e. big statue on a hill - and a wee bit of shopping before zooming off on a 10-hour night bus down to Chile's Lake District. Our first port of call is Pucón, apparently the country's adventure capital - shame we both have colds and are therefore not feeling particularly adventurous! Still, there's a spectacular view of a smoking volcano from our bedroom window, and we manage to see a few lakes and relax in some fancy thermal baths. Also, we meet Crazy Dutch Lady, who's lurvely but just a lickle bit overexcited about pretty much everything.
Valdivia is the last new place we visit, and jolly spiffing it is too. Situated at the confluence of three rivers, it has a niiice, laidback feel to it - naturally, it doesn't hurt that our hostel = perfecto, as we make friends with the staff, other guests and... Kerrrazy German Lady, who occasionally sounds like Borat, gets pissed on cheap Chilean beer and then starts to insult absolutely everyone! Oh Barbara, we will never forget you...
Finally, it's back to Santiago for the last few days with Karenina. As I don't move into me new place til the first of the month, we spend a couple of nights in a huuuge hostel complete with a swimming pool, jacuzzi, bar, tourism agency... talk about all-inclusive! We sample some tasty juices at the fruit & veg market, go on a tour of a winery aaand... meet Crazy American Guy, to complete our hat-trick of crazies. He wanders around shirtless constantly, despite being farrr from God's gift, and has a creepy, smiley way of staring at you - how bizarro.
There endeth me travels; time to get thrown into a new job, new house and new housemates! Hasta la proxima.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Brabrabrazilzilzil
Re-rewind: after the astounding beauty of Patagonia, I return to smoggy Santiago for a week. Why, you ask? Well, there is just the small matter of being without a home, as I do not fancy paying rent during the months I'll be skipping around the continent. Amazingly, I find my new pad after just a few days - tis a lovely house on a quiet lil street, I'll be living with four chilenos and there's even a three-legged cat called Rita who thinks she's in the jungle!
January 30th: I arrive in Rio de Janeiro via Buenos Aires a knackered and disorientated schmoo. A guy trying to sell us a taxi ride tells me I look like Brad Pitt - ha. Carnaval doesn't start for a few days, so we have plenty of time to settle into our fun-but-not-exactly-good-value hostel; running water is not always in plentiful supply.
Before long, we're sunning ourselves on Copacabana beach and zooming around town to see the mahoosive Jaysus statue and a very odd cone-shaped cathedral that looks like a cross between a pyramid and a spaceship. At our first taste of street partay shenanigans, Karen & meself get laughed at for dancing like the pasty British tourists that we are - we're so not bovverred though; the sense of joy, or 'alegria' is infectious.
January 30th: I arrive in Rio de Janeiro via Buenos Aires a knackered and disorientated schmoo. A guy trying to sell us a taxi ride tells me I look like Brad Pitt - ha. Carnaval doesn't start for a few days, so we have plenty of time to settle into our fun-but-not-exactly-good-value hostel; running water is not always in plentiful supply.
Before long, we're sunning ourselves on Copacabana beach and zooming around town to see the mahoosive Jaysus statue and a very odd cone-shaped cathedral that looks like a cross between a pyramid and a spaceship. At our first taste of street partay shenanigans, Karen & meself get laughed at for dancing like the pasty British tourists that we are - we're so not bovverred though; the sense of joy, or 'alegria' is infectious.
The 'Sambódromo' is the epitomy of carnaval spirit, a huge arena-type-thang where all the samba schools compete and the parades get more insane by the minute. Tickets sell out way before the festivities begin, and touts can charge upwards of £80, so we pretty much decide that it's too expensivo... that's before a dodgy policeman spots us in one of the main squares and offers to sell them to us for a tenner! He even has to take us aside so that his colleagues don't see him in the act - Brazilian corruption is alive and well it would seem. The night itself is incredible apart from one minor detail - just after the first parade ends it begins to piss it down. In an amazing display of supply-and-demand, plastic bag ponchos are immediately being snapped up left, right and centre!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Planeos, trainos and where-the-hell-am-I-again-o?
Ayyy, it hass beeen a looong time so forrrgive me if I take a leetle while to say you eet.
I had an absolutely epic 24-hour journey back to Cheelay via Toronto, which wasn't made any easier by a horde of screaming kids and a spoilt brat beside me who got very upset that she didn't have a window seat - why can't they invent a plane creche already I tell thee! Arrived in Santiago just a wee bit jetlagged and headed to a brightly coloured hostel, surprised to find that my Spanish still functioned all right after a month in da UK. I managed to fit meeting up with mates, a bit of flathunting & buying a digital camera into less than two days, even though the last thing I needed was a bloomin' hectic schedule.
After a 9am flight down to Patagonia, i.e. the very south of South America, I realise that I've been in 5 different cities in 6 days. Totally zonked, I try fiddling with my new photographic device - one small step for mankind, one giant leap for Schmoo. In comes Michael, a 19 year-old Belgian with a lust for life and a habit of saying the words "Awesome!" and "Woohoo!" at the top of his lungs fairly frequently. Together we head out to explore the fine city of Punta Arenas, which seems to be filled with rowdy teenagers and soldier types.
The very next day, I visit a penguin colony an hour outside of town. Yep, that's right - penguins! Thousands of them! Us visitors have to stay on a series of walkways, but at some points we manage to get really close to the action. I cannot even begin to describe the cute factor.
At the last minute, I decide to join Michael on a trek of several days through Torres del Paine national park, one of the most beautiful in Latin America. I'm incredibly lucky, as he has space for two in his tent and all the camping equipment you could ask for. His exhuberant ying and my slightly drier yang seem to go well together - the next 4 days involve mucho walking, "awesome!" scenery and such back-to-basics camping staples as drinking water from rivers/streams, cooking lots of stodge and washing up using gravel (works surprisingly well). We meet plenty of cool folk along the way, including a lovely bunch of well-travelled American gals and a couple of kerrrazy italianos.
Round it all off with an excursion to a big fook-off glacier across the border in Argentina. As I don't have much time left, have to settle for a day trip and end up spending 10 hours on a minibus and only 2 hours actually at the glacier! Tis amazing though, seeing an actual remnant of the ice age up close, and I witness big chunks of it falling off into the lake.
I had an absolutely epic 24-hour journey back to Cheelay via Toronto, which wasn't made any easier by a horde of screaming kids and a spoilt brat beside me who got very upset that she didn't have a window seat - why can't they invent a plane creche already I tell thee! Arrived in Santiago just a wee bit jetlagged and headed to a brightly coloured hostel, surprised to find that my Spanish still functioned all right after a month in da UK. I managed to fit meeting up with mates, a bit of flathunting & buying a digital camera into less than two days, even though the last thing I needed was a bloomin' hectic schedule.
After a 9am flight down to Patagonia, i.e. the very south of South America, I realise that I've been in 5 different cities in 6 days. Totally zonked, I try fiddling with my new photographic device - one small step for mankind, one giant leap for Schmoo. In comes Michael, a 19 year-old Belgian with a lust for life and a habit of saying the words "Awesome!" and "Woohoo!" at the top of his lungs fairly frequently. Together we head out to explore the fine city of Punta Arenas, which seems to be filled with rowdy teenagers and soldier types.
The very next day, I visit a penguin colony an hour outside of town. Yep, that's right - penguins! Thousands of them! Us visitors have to stay on a series of walkways, but at some points we manage to get really close to the action. I cannot even begin to describe the cute factor.
At the last minute, I decide to join Michael on a trek of several days through Torres del Paine national park, one of the most beautiful in Latin America. I'm incredibly lucky, as he has space for two in his tent and all the camping equipment you could ask for. His exhuberant ying and my slightly drier yang seem to go well together - the next 4 days involve mucho walking, "awesome!" scenery and such back-to-basics camping staples as drinking water from rivers/streams, cooking lots of stodge and washing up using gravel (works surprisingly well). We meet plenty of cool folk along the way, including a lovely bunch of well-travelled American gals and a couple of kerrrazy italianos.
Round it all off with an excursion to a big fook-off glacier across the border in Argentina. As I don't have much time left, have to settle for a day trip and end up spending 10 hours on a minibus and only 2 hours actually at the glacier! Tis amazing though, seeing an actual remnant of the ice age up close, and I witness big chunks of it falling off into the lake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
