I have thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Santiago. After the very-filling lunch, we drove to Parco Forestale and walked around the city. Santiago is a beautiful place - the architecture is strikingly European, with broad tree-lined boulevards and the signature mix of more classical buildings with apartments and other edificios erected in a 1970s style. It is strikingly clean to me, for a big city. And it feels deceptively small. As we drove around, I felt as if I were in a medium-sized town... but when we ascended the surrounding foothills and I got a view of the city itself, it is expansive, and most certainly an urban center.
We visited the Fine Art museum, which I enjoyed very much, stopped for a coffee, and wandered into a little counterculture shop called The Clinic, where I found some very funny tee shirts and other paraphernalia. We otherwise wandered around for the afternoon.We'll go to a barbecue tonight, and Alvaro's parents will return to town tomorrow afternoon sometime. It has been a lazy day, and it's time for a nap.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Ahi Chileno and Mostaza... Yummmmmmm
I disembarked the plane, paid my $131 reciprocity fee (thank you, U.S. foreign policy), and steered my bags through customs. I'd been stopped at every security checkpoint in Atlanta because I was carrying - get this - a 20-lb portable battery pack, with enough juice for 240 kilowatt-hours. It's also packaged in tight-fitted backpack-ish black and orange zippered case... making it look like a very neatly packaged and massive bomb. (This was an installment from Alvaro, who shipped it to my office with a Puss'n'Boots smile asking, "hey, can you take something back for me?" Twenty pounds and one massive carry-on later, I schlepped my pseudo-bomb for all the inspectors in secondary.)
No one in Chile seemed to care - or notice - what I was carrying.
I'd dressed nicely for the flight - or rather, for being picked up from the flight (I am a proponent of the Bob Hope and Sark theory of pajamas on a plane), since I was expecting to go straight to Alvaro's house to see his mother, and meet his father, sister, and brother-in-law for the first time. This is the only reason I was wearing pressed khakis, a white button-down, a corduroy jacket, make-up, and - the coup de grace - heels. As I teetered along, 20-pound pseudo-bomb in tow, I bubbled with excitement at seeing the boyfriend, and meeting the family.
I met Alvaro at the airport, a touch delirious from the flight, and he gave me a quick tour of the city on the way to his house. I quickly learned that his family was out of town. I promptly removed the heels with a huge grin.
After dropping off the bags, we set off for my first escapade in Santiago. The weather was perfect - around 70 degrees F, streaming sunlight, clear skies, cool breeze. We visited a diner in the Providencia district, very close to his family's home. This place is a true diner, with people sitting on stools at bars lining the walls, and around the bar. The place buzzed with friendly chatter and neighbors who knew each other. Alvaro had spoken highly and repeatedly of a sandwich here - the "Italiano" - which has the pulled pork of a Cuban, tomato, avocado, and homemade mayonaise, on homemade bread. He ordered two, and Coca Lights (I love Coca Light - so much better than Diet Coke or Coke Zero). As we waited on the food, I noticed ketchup and mustard bottles, which he immediately warned me were not ketchup and mustard, but a spicy red chile sauce, and a sweet and sour type mustard. He warned me to steer clear.
The sandwiches arrived, and I enjoyed mine - but something was missing. A certain bite. I decided to try the "ketchup" and "mustard," despite Alvaro's warnings... and boy, I found what was missing. Amazing. It's like ketchup laced with Tabasco, and dijon mustard with the consistency and tang of sweet and sour sauce. It made the sandwich perfect. Really perfect. We decided it would be a great addition to the Vortex menu. And the ahi Chileno and the mostaza will be coming home with me. I will share. :)
No one in Chile seemed to care - or notice - what I was carrying.
I'd dressed nicely for the flight - or rather, for being picked up from the flight (I am a proponent of the Bob Hope and Sark theory of pajamas on a plane), since I was expecting to go straight to Alvaro's house to see his mother, and meet his father, sister, and brother-in-law for the first time. This is the only reason I was wearing pressed khakis, a white button-down, a corduroy jacket, make-up, and - the coup de grace - heels. As I teetered along, 20-pound pseudo-bomb in tow, I bubbled with excitement at seeing the boyfriend, and meeting the family.
I met Alvaro at the airport, a touch delirious from the flight, and he gave me a quick tour of the city on the way to his house. I quickly learned that his family was out of town. I promptly removed the heels with a huge grin.
After dropping off the bags, we set off for my first escapade in Santiago. The weather was perfect - around 70 degrees F, streaming sunlight, clear skies, cool breeze. We visited a diner in the Providencia district, very close to his family's home. This place is a true diner, with people sitting on stools at bars lining the walls, and around the bar. The place buzzed with friendly chatter and neighbors who knew each other. Alvaro had spoken highly and repeatedly of a sandwich here - the "Italiano" - which has the pulled pork of a Cuban, tomato, avocado, and homemade mayonaise, on homemade bread. He ordered two, and Coca Lights (I love Coca Light - so much better than Diet Coke or Coke Zero). As we waited on the food, I noticed ketchup and mustard bottles, which he immediately warned me were not ketchup and mustard, but a spicy red chile sauce, and a sweet and sour type mustard. He warned me to steer clear.
The sandwiches arrived, and I enjoyed mine - but something was missing. A certain bite. I decided to try the "ketchup" and "mustard," despite Alvaro's warnings... and boy, I found what was missing. Amazing. It's like ketchup laced with Tabasco, and dijon mustard with the consistency and tang of sweet and sour sauce. It made the sandwich perfect. Really perfect. We decided it would be a great addition to the Vortex menu. And the ahi Chileno and the mostaza will be coming home with me. I will share. :)
And the adventure began in Atlanta
So! I rode to the airport, bubbling all the way. Matt was a wonderful chauffeur. There is something invigorating, tingling, and auspicious about arriving at an airport. This happens for me whether I am the one traveling, or whether I am simply dropping someone off - but it is stronger when I am the traveler. I like the possibility of the airport, and the adventure of travel. Much like Robert Frost's "Birches," it is "good both going and coming back."
I checked in at the curbside Delta spot, where my massively huge bag was overweight by four pounds. The Delta checker gave me a very stern look and asked if I realized that the overweight fee was $200. Dismayed, I said I'd just have to pay it - it was too late to redistribute or take anything back. He then gave me a wink and a smile and said, "you just pay it next time. But rearrange your bags before you return - not everybody is as nice as me." *Relief.*
And I'm off!
Or so I thought.
I arrived at the T-gate in plenty of time ... meaning 3 hours before the flight. I settled in to read my book (The Translator by Daoud Hari - amazing), and people began to filter in. Slowly at first, and then the crowd grew to a dizzying crescendo of disgruntled and panic-stricken stand-by passengers desperate to get on the flight.
I am flying on a buddy pass.
Not good.
I made friends with a Chilean guy about my age - he's from Seattle, and he's spent the past three nights sleeping in airports trying to make it home to Santiago on a buddy pass. He started in Seattle, then New York, and then finally bought a ticket to Atlanta, since it had the least-full flights to Chile.
Three days. VERY not good.
"I've done this for three days," he told me. "And you have to keep talking to the guy behind the desk, they will ticket you faster." So we chatted. A lot. I was a bit skeptical - the American in me knew that we had priority points on each ticket, and that the very harried guy behind the desk, Stephen, was not connecting names with faces, so I doubted that my chatting was doing any good. Each time I looked dubiously at my companion, he had encouraging words. At last he asked, "Have you seen the movie Shrek?" I nodded. "Be Puss'n'Boots... the helpless smile, it will work for you." I at least started laughing.
Both of our names were low on the priority list, and continued to get lower as other bumped passengers showed up. I was nervous and a very unhappy camper. And then the guy at the desk started chatting with us. We just stood in line with ticketed passengers, and he asked to see our tickets. "We're on buddy passes," I said. And, my companion put his arm around me lovingly and said, "we're traveling together." I thought, what the hell? and played along. "Yes," I said, wrapping my arm around my new "friend" and taking both of our passports and presenting them to to Stephen. Who proceeded to laugh out loud.
"Guys, you are not together... you got here separately." We gave the Puss'n'Boots smile as if to say, "c'mon, it's funny." So Stephen the ticket guy gave us a laugh and a wink and took our passes, and entered us in the computer. He said, "Alright, Mr. and Mrs. (forgot the guy's last name), here are your boarding passes ... hey, stranger things have happened in an airport."
After several celebratory high-fives, my near-tearful and sleep-deprived Chilean companion and I boarded the plane. I thanked him by offering him the most valuable thing I had on me - ambien for the flight. :)
I'd hardly eaten anything that day, so I popped the ambien and was asleep before takeoff. I have vague memories of my companion waking me for dinner, and eating something chicken-ish, and sleeping again. I woke up to breakfast wrapped in blankets, my new friend's jacket, and buried in pillows. A very successful flight, indeed.
Thus began episode one.
I checked in at the curbside Delta spot, where my massively huge bag was overweight by four pounds. The Delta checker gave me a very stern look and asked if I realized that the overweight fee was $200. Dismayed, I said I'd just have to pay it - it was too late to redistribute or take anything back. He then gave me a wink and a smile and said, "you just pay it next time. But rearrange your bags before you return - not everybody is as nice as me." *Relief.*
And I'm off!
Or so I thought.
I arrived at the T-gate in plenty of time ... meaning 3 hours before the flight. I settled in to read my book (The Translator by Daoud Hari - amazing), and people began to filter in. Slowly at first, and then the crowd grew to a dizzying crescendo of disgruntled and panic-stricken stand-by passengers desperate to get on the flight.
I am flying on a buddy pass.
Not good.
I made friends with a Chilean guy about my age - he's from Seattle, and he's spent the past three nights sleeping in airports trying to make it home to Santiago on a buddy pass. He started in Seattle, then New York, and then finally bought a ticket to Atlanta, since it had the least-full flights to Chile.
Three days. VERY not good.
"I've done this for three days," he told me. "And you have to keep talking to the guy behind the desk, they will ticket you faster." So we chatted. A lot. I was a bit skeptical - the American in me knew that we had priority points on each ticket, and that the very harried guy behind the desk, Stephen, was not connecting names with faces, so I doubted that my chatting was doing any good. Each time I looked dubiously at my companion, he had encouraging words. At last he asked, "Have you seen the movie Shrek?" I nodded. "Be Puss'n'Boots... the helpless smile, it will work for you." I at least started laughing.
Both of our names were low on the priority list, and continued to get lower as other bumped passengers showed up. I was nervous and a very unhappy camper. And then the guy at the desk started chatting with us. We just stood in line with ticketed passengers, and he asked to see our tickets. "We're on buddy passes," I said. And, my companion put his arm around me lovingly and said, "we're traveling together." I thought, what the hell? and played along. "Yes," I said, wrapping my arm around my new "friend" and taking both of our passports and presenting them to to Stephen. Who proceeded to laugh out loud.
"Guys, you are not together... you got here separately." We gave the Puss'n'Boots smile as if to say, "c'mon, it's funny." So Stephen the ticket guy gave us a laugh and a wink and took our passes, and entered us in the computer. He said, "Alright, Mr. and Mrs. (forgot the guy's last name), here are your boarding passes ... hey, stranger things have happened in an airport."
After several celebratory high-fives, my near-tearful and sleep-deprived Chilean companion and I boarded the plane. I thanked him by offering him the most valuable thing I had on me - ambien for the flight. :)
I'd hardly eaten anything that day, so I popped the ambien and was asleep before takeoff. I have vague memories of my companion waking me for dinner, and eating something chicken-ish, and sleeping again. I woke up to breakfast wrapped in blankets, my new friend's jacket, and buried in pillows. A very successful flight, indeed.
Thus began episode one.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Ooo, it's been a WHILE!
Hi, everyone... or perhaps just me, since I never update this. It's been over a year - and so much change! I'm still an immigration attorney, and very much enjoying it. True, they "don't call it going to play" - it's definitely work - but I am becoming more adept each day as I venture into the murky and treacherous swamp of U.S. immigration law and regulation... and customary practice.
I'm now co-chairing a nonprofit, GAIN, the Georgia Asylum and Immigration Network. We help coordinate and provide pro bono legal services for individuals in need of asylum and other immigration assistance, and we are soon to expand into VAWA (Violence Against Women's Act) and U and T visa cases. I love working with GAIN, particularly helping steer policy. We assist the most vulnerable subset of an exceedingly vulnerable population. The work is more rewarding than I can describe.
As is always the case when I write, I am about to travel! My last trip of note was last April, when I went to Anna and Phil's wedding in Newcastle, in the UK. I attended the hen night on Friday; traveled through Scotland (Edinburgh and Aviemore and many an Indian restaurant) with Colette and Alex for a week, and then rejoined my girls from France (Anna, Melissa, and Katheryn) for the wedding the following weekend. It was a magical trip - from lost luggage to my first hen night to Edinburgh with Colette to knee-deep snow and scotch-tasting with Russians in Scotland to almost-hare krishnas at Anna's wedding to a deeply moving last visit with Katheryn - the trip was memorable, and intense.
So now - I am off to Chile! Flying stand-by on a Delta Buddy Pass (thanks to Rhett and Melissa O'Brien!), going to Santiago from December 26 - January 3. I am going for my first visit. For the first time ever, travel is boy-motivated. I am dating a wonderful man (man? sounds funny, but is true... I'm 30, after all) who recently moved from Atlanta to Santiago, Chile. This trip is to visit him in his home (he is Chilean) and to meet his family (other than Mom - met her a few weeks ago, and she is delightful. She also seems to like me... Thank God!).
So - I am ready! Have packed and am waiting on my ride to the airport, the illustrious Matt. This trip is very different for me, as it's not motivated by wanderlust or exploring a new corner of the globe. It's so different, in fact, that my traditional buying and scouring of travel books has been somewhat limited. Of course, I bought my Culture Shock! Chile and my Discovery Guide, but I'm trying to develop as few preconceived notions as possible. I want to go into Chile with an eye toward discovery, but more by getting to know Santiago through my hosts' eyes, and through my own eyes, than by reading a book and forming a pieced-together mental picture. I remember when Mr. Tiller advised me about going to France that I should go with no expectations - just let myself discover it, let France just exist, and allow myself to enter the strange expatriate dance. That's what I did, and I fell in love with all the quirks, oddities, and inexplicable idiosyncrasies of the heart of the francophone world. That's what I intend to do again, to simply arrive and float into the Chilean dance. But I still have my book if I need it. ; )
Since I'm flying stand-by, I'll be waiting at the airport for, oh, a riveting 3 hours... so I'll probably post again. Doorbell rang! My ride is here! Here we go!!
I'm now co-chairing a nonprofit, GAIN, the Georgia Asylum and Immigration Network. We help coordinate and provide pro bono legal services for individuals in need of asylum and other immigration assistance, and we are soon to expand into VAWA (Violence Against Women's Act) and U and T visa cases. I love working with GAIN, particularly helping steer policy. We assist the most vulnerable subset of an exceedingly vulnerable population. The work is more rewarding than I can describe.
As is always the case when I write, I am about to travel! My last trip of note was last April, when I went to Anna and Phil's wedding in Newcastle, in the UK. I attended the hen night on Friday; traveled through Scotland (Edinburgh and Aviemore and many an Indian restaurant) with Colette and Alex for a week, and then rejoined my girls from France (Anna, Melissa, and Katheryn) for the wedding the following weekend. It was a magical trip - from lost luggage to my first hen night to Edinburgh with Colette to knee-deep snow and scotch-tasting with Russians in Scotland to almost-hare krishnas at Anna's wedding to a deeply moving last visit with Katheryn - the trip was memorable, and intense.
So now - I am off to Chile! Flying stand-by on a Delta Buddy Pass (thanks to Rhett and Melissa O'Brien!), going to Santiago from December 26 - January 3. I am going for my first visit. For the first time ever, travel is boy-motivated. I am dating a wonderful man (man? sounds funny, but is true... I'm 30, after all) who recently moved from Atlanta to Santiago, Chile. This trip is to visit him in his home (he is Chilean) and to meet his family (other than Mom - met her a few weeks ago, and she is delightful. She also seems to like me... Thank God!).
So - I am ready! Have packed and am waiting on my ride to the airport, the illustrious Matt. This trip is very different for me, as it's not motivated by wanderlust or exploring a new corner of the globe. It's so different, in fact, that my traditional buying and scouring of travel books has been somewhat limited. Of course, I bought my Culture Shock! Chile and my Discovery Guide, but I'm trying to develop as few preconceived notions as possible. I want to go into Chile with an eye toward discovery, but more by getting to know Santiago through my hosts' eyes, and through my own eyes, than by reading a book and forming a pieced-together mental picture. I remember when Mr. Tiller advised me about going to France that I should go with no expectations - just let myself discover it, let France just exist, and allow myself to enter the strange expatriate dance. That's what I did, and I fell in love with all the quirks, oddities, and inexplicable idiosyncrasies of the heart of the francophone world. That's what I intend to do again, to simply arrive and float into the Chilean dance. But I still have my book if I need it. ; )
Since I'm flying stand-by, I'll be waiting at the airport for, oh, a riveting 3 hours... so I'll probably post again. Doorbell rang! My ride is here! Here we go!!
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