gigantic. hairy. tarantula. in. our. bed.

That just about sums up the reason for my new arachnaphobia induced paranoia. I turned, curious as to what had made Brett exclaim in mild shock, "Oh, my!" When I spotted the hairy monster tying to crawl away from Brett's looming figure over the bed, I pretty much lost it. Stepping into the role of the brave hero, Brett trapped it in a huge yogurt container while I tried to snag a photo of it for you all to see here. Notice there is no photo. I simply did not have the guts to look at the thing long enough to get a photo. It might have had something to do with the fact that Brett had to keep shaking the yogurt container, as this baby was attempting to climb out. Did I mention it wasn't a single serving container...it was family sized?

I should fill you in on a major detail here. The tarantulas down here are non-venomous. Call me crazy, but I don't find much comfort in this. It helps a little, but when faced with having a gigantic hairy spider on your bed, it's not like you're that rational in the first place.

The Chileans refer to these non-lethal tarantulas as pollitos, which translates to "little chicken". I'm assuming it has to do with being fluffy and roughly the size of a chicken. Maybe they eat chickens for breakfast. Brett insists that our pollito was in fact a pollitito...just a "poor baby tarantula who probably got lost and wound up in our bed."

I have been getting the heebie-jeebies all day, convincing myself that I just felt something crawling on my leg. on my side. on my neck. wherever. I just can't shake that feeling like something is there that isn't supposed to be. I hope this fades soon. There has always been a pollito check before crawling under the covers at night, but you can bet they'll be militantly thorough starting tonight.

Spring Blossoms

Spring Blossoms

The birds are singing...the bees are buzzing...spring has finally arrived at the cabin! There's nothing that cures the winter blahs like a yard bursting with blossoming fruit trees. They smell so incredible, I don't have words to describe it. Above are some photos of our spring time blossoms.

Dance the funky chicken

Absolutely nothing. That’s exactly what we’re doing right now and it feels great. We’ve had one of those weeks where we both have been running around like mad. Nobody celebrates a day of independence like the Chileans! In fact, the official day is still a week away, but you’d never guess it by the way the folks down here have been having festivals, performances, sporting events, song & dance, and all around general festivities.

The week long merriment was kicked off last Saturday with the Fiesta Huasa, a celebration of the huaso, which is the Chilean equivalent to the old western cowboy. People from near and far come each year to our school campus to play typical Chilean games and to see the Cueca dancers. “What’s Cueca?” you might be wondering. Cueca (“kway-kuh”) is the national Chilean dance. Both partners dance with hankies, which the woman uses to demurely hide her face behind and the male swings it around above his head (which kind of reminds me of the Minnesota Twins’ homer hankies from the late 80’s). Generally you will only see this dance performed in the countryside by the huasos and huasas, but during the month of September, you will often see it throughout Santiago. It is meant to represent the courting ritual between a rooster and hen. Which, come to think of it, makes it sound a little odd. It certainly doesn’t sizzle like the Argentine Tango, but it is a fun tradition to watch. Today I stumbled through my first cueca and loved it! Below are some photos of Fiesta Huasa (both this year and last), and one of my students dressed up in traditional Chiean wear for our school assembly.

Chi-chi-chi-le-le-le…Viva Chile!!


Arturo, school custodian extrodinaire! Dressed up here in his huaso attire, Arturo is one of the most genuine men this world has ever known. Here he is passing around a Chilean liquor (made of corn)that is stored in a glass jug and drunk from a bull's horn.


Brett is apparently a fan.


Cueca dancers




All of our administrators kick off the fiesta each year by arriving on horseback. Giddyup.


One of my students donning a typical Chilean outfit for the dance from the Northern region.

Little Green Goodness

I have discovered that I am deeply in love with brussel sprouts. That’s right…those little cabbage like veggies that make most people gag. They’re tiny. They’re tasty. They’re perfectly packaged in their own little leaves. They grew on me slowly, but now we’ve found a way to work them into nearly every meal. Omelets with brussel sprouts for breakfast? Why not! Rice noodles with peanut sauce? Don’t forget the brussel sprouts! Don’t be surprised if you come down to visit and Brett and I serve you vanilla ice cream with brussel sprouts on top for dessert. We’ve not yet tested that one, but I believe it merits a trial run. I tried brussel sprouts once as a kid and nearly puked they were so awful. I decided to try them again as an adult, since there was an abundance of them at the market where they were flowing over the table and spilling into the eggplants below. A little skeptical, I bought just a handful and tossed them into a stirfry. I had no idea that biting into them releases a spicy mustard flavor. I am forever hooked. How do you think they’d taste with Cheerios in the morning? Maybe I should talk to General Mills about marketing that one. Lucky for me, I have an in there.

The Cabin

Remember that old t.v. show Green Acres? We are living that show. We left the culture, the art, the international restaurants, the overall excitement of city life for a little ramshackle cabin in the Andean foothills that seems to be held together with Bond-O.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving life in our little cabin…it is just the exact opposite of what we had before. Previously if we had a few extra hours, we might have met up with some friends for a drink in Bellavista, walked up Cerro San Cristobal, or gone out for Thai food. Now if we have a few extra seconds to spare, we’re trying to figure out how we might possibly warm our cabin up by a degree or two, or how we can make the crazy path of stairs down to our place slightly less treacherous. Seriously, the stairs leading down to the cabin are ridiculous. The woman who lived here before us broke her leg on them and I’m convinced there is an ungraceful face-plant lurking in my future. I couldn’t watch when the “moving guys” (a.k.a. the friends of a friend of the son of a guy who drives our school bus) were hauling our refrigerator. I was terrified that the guy on the bottom of the final rickety set of steps was going to wind up as a pancake before the escapade was over.

Luckily, this winter was much, much warmer than last year, although I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s comfortable in the cabin. We’re keeping warm by way of a terrifically inefficient fireplace and a propane heater on wheels.

The shower is, umm, well, interesting. We haven’t met the neighbors yet, but I’m pretty sure they know who we are. When Brett took his first shower in the cabin, the water temperature caught him slightly off guard. I’m hoping they’re not fluent in English profanities.

On the flip side, the cabin is super charming, and has much more personality than our last fairly sterile apartment. So while it has been somewhat tricky to figure the place out, we’re well on our way to make it our cozy new home. Mark and Melissa, you are our inspiration! You have set an awfully high standard for what you can do with an old cabin.

Just in case you thought I was being a bit dramatic about the Green Acres comparison, here is an aerial:



Some other photos:

Choppin broccoli in the puffy

2 Chilean standards: Machas and red wine


Did I mention the cozy factor?

Mas Familia

I love my family. Yes, yes, I know. Most people do. But not only do I love them, I love to be with them. As you can imagine, living a hemisphere away doesn't exactly lend itself to frequent visits. So when I get to see my family I get very happy. Imagine my complete and total giddiness, then, when I got to spend several weeks visiting with so many family members. There was time on the lake with my dad and Susan, beers and bag-o with my brother, two road trips with my mom, a flight with my sister. There were the conversations into the wee hours that my brother and sister and I love to have. There were some serious heart-to-hearts with both of my parents. And the general catching up after a year or two of not seeing aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandparents. My grandparents. They are the kindest and most generous people I know. I love sitting around, playing cards with them and hearing old stories. It was pure bliss, even though we never got around to gin rummy this trip.

I hope you all know how much these visits meant to me.