I get to my 8 AM & the alarms are going off. Lights aren't really on, and the door on the other side of the hall is chained. In THIS case, the building was flooded & they lost power, so all activity is suspended for the day. So not quite fitting the security measures.
Every office you go to, you either have to check in with security & then get buzzed in at the office, or you have to buzz the office to be let in. You must either press a button OR have a staff member wave their ID over a scanner at the door to be let out.
So my 2 morning classes were canceled this AM. And I came to the Starbucks at Costanera, South America's tallest building, which is cute. It's a mall but, more importantly: it has Jumbo, the large grocery store/Target-like super store that allows me to get CRAZY international products like Earl Grey tea, sage, red peppers & Glade air fresheners.
The sage surprised me, that it's so rare. Especially when the dried spice rack has 3 slots for oregano. Could have used that space for a DIFFERENT spice, but hey, what do I know? I just come from a country that serves spring rolls without cream cheese but WITH ginger. Clearly we must be lacking in an appreciation for the blander things in life. You know that saying, variety is the spice of life? Only if by variety you mean potatoes, mayo, avocado & salt.
The country I come from also distinguishes between Gruyere cheese & Swiss cheese. Not until I was here & greatly disappointed to buy a package of Gruyere that was actually Swiss cheese could I finally admit that my brother had always been right: Swiss cheese isn't very good. Said country also knows the difference between bacon & pancetta, and that the former MUST be cooked BEFORE you put it on a bacon cheeseburger. Oh yeah-- uncooked pork of SOME kind-- I couldn't tell if it actually was bacon because I wasn't about to ingest super chewy, mostly uncooked pork anything.
It's funny, because my culture shock has definitely gotten better. Then a friend & I started dealing with the fits, starts & collapses of dealing with Chileans on a more personal level, which led me to believe that Chileans are actually on the autism spectrum. They have the social skills & graces of toilet paper.
It would ALSO be nice if I could get a SIM card for my banda ancha movil (wifi plug-in) while here at the mall, but I am confident that won't happen since I don't actually have the device here.
Let's say that you are walking down the street where you live, & you see a cellular store. You wanted to get a prepaid ANYTHING for your phone, so you go in, & eventually, possibly paperwork later, you will have it. Yeah, it doesn't work like that here. You can't just go to a cellular store & get what you need. Some stores are just stores, though I'm not clear on what they actually sell; some are customer service centers, though I think they're just a way for people to practice standing around; and some are authorized distributors that HAVE stuff in their windows, though I no longer believe you can actually buy anything in them. But none of these can do prepaid anything. For THAT, you have to go to the mall. Where you will take a number, wait for 10-20 minutes if you're lucky, stand in line to be helped while the guy who needs to take breaks from working so hard at breathing and thinking at the same time will wonder why he's only seeing you & your number now when people were being helped & there were others in line with smaller numbers than yours likewise waiting. If you're lucky, you get what you want. Usually then you are given a receipt so you can go wait in another line to pay. You get another receipt, & go to your (hopefully) last line to pick up your product. This is actually how they run most stores in the country, requiring you to take a number, & then get in 2 separate lines to pay for & then get what you bought.
But what really had my scratching my head until today was how it's possible that a country that turns the morning & evening commutes into rugby without the elegance isn't eviscerating New Zealand, South Africa & Australia in the Rugby World Cup. Or anyone, actually. Then this morning during my walk to the match that is the train platform, it occurred to me that having a team of Chileans go up against Aussies would be like sending a team of stockier Jens to keep running into Brian Urlacher. People my size bounce-- trust me, this happens every morning when people are scrumming to get in the door of the train, and end up ricocheting into the next forward, AKA commuter. Also, maybe you can't really make a sport out of an everyday facet of life. The British don't have a sport wherein you patiently wait in line. Los Angeles hasn't, as far as I know, started having sitting in rush hour competitions.
And yet, I have nearly fully achieved acceptance of, well the commuting at least, of my move abroad. Sometimes I just float through the scrum, waiting to be shoved on the train, kind of like in China. Sometimes I'll even start throwing my weight toward the wall of people already on the train, which is the whole point of the game. And I do it all WITHOUT screaming swear words in my head. No: screaming swear words, particularly mofo, is reserved for when I'm trying to get off the train & the sardines in the can act like they don't have legs to move out of your way.
Chileans are actually kind of convinced that doorways and sidewalks are for standing in, not moving through. Going down the stairs to the train station isn't that different from Frogger, except you're dodging the random stationary people instead of speeding cars.
Speed mainly isn't a thing here. Individual Chileans move at about the speed that paint dries. If two are walking together, you can divide that rate of speed by two. Continue multiplying the reduction in speed as you add more people to the group. You or I first & foremost apply the concept of speed to movement. Chileans take all the speed they're not using while moving & use it to talk instead. My Columbian student has been living in Chile for about 10-15 years. His dad still needs Carlos to translate for him when he comes to visit.
It actually occurred to me that one way to determine if a person is Chilean or not is by asking that person: you're in the train station, & you hear a train coming into the station. Do you move slower or faster? The Chilean will likely say, "Oooooh, moving, and standing still. I always get those two things confused. There's a difference, I know there is, but I'm not sure what. You know-- let me stop right here in the middle of the stairs/doorway/teeming sidewalk, & call or what's app my friend. I can use a lifeline for this question, right?"
