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.
