Notes from Underneath

Musings about life in Chile and everything after

April 25, 2012
by Andrea
11 Comments

End of the road

I’ve been consumed with doctor’s appointments this week and visits to the clinica (hospital) for one thing or another. Why? I guess there comes a moment in some pregnancies where the woman’s body just says “peace out” or “get this ball of baby out of here because it’s literally cramping my style.” This is what seems to be happening with me and as a result, my doctor has turned the hourglass over on this journey called pregnancy.

Like sands in the hourglass .... via 411onsoaps.com

And when I say hourglass, I mean that the days are numbered. By that I mean either tomorrow, Thursday, or next Monday, at the latest. Are you getting what I’m telling you? It means that by THIS TIME NEXT WEEK I’LL BE A MOM. Let’s ponder that for a second….

When one first embarks on this journey (again, if you’re like me), you spend a bit of time trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you’re now one of those women who breeds. You spend an equal amount of time trying to come to terms with the fact that you can no longer enjoy the glass of wine that made all lousy days bearable. Just when you need that glass of vino most, all of a sudden it’s one of the biggest no-no’s around. That and caffeine. Just like that, your morning and evening drinks are no longer applicable to your body’s new role of “baby making.”

After that initial shock and disbelief, what happened with me is that I just kind of “forgot” that I was pregnant. I use the term “forgot” quite loosely because the reality is that I took care of myself, signed up for all kinds of preggo lady newsletters, downloaded apps on my phone, went to all the necessary appointments, took all the necessary tests (pin cushion, anyone?) and took all the required vitamins (and we’re not talking the Flintstones anymore) expected of a mom-to-be. I took on the role of pregnant lady like I would take on any other responsibility and I did it as completely as possible. So what do I mean by “forgot?” I mean that I didn’t go all agro crazy about the baby. In fact it was during this time that G and I took our fabu vacation to Southeast Asia. This was followed by the craziest three months at work where I literally ate, breathed and slept all things work. In short, I didn’t buy baby things, or think about baby names or decorate the bedroom or even imagine in the slightest what the baby would be like. I wasn’t consumed at all and kind of took an “out of sight, out of mind” stance to it all.

This was a fine and dandy strategy until riiiiiiight around January of this year when we moved from our first apartment together to the one we’re in now, a move motivated exclusively by the arrival of this bundle. But even during this time, the reality of the pregnancy and the baby didn’t really, truly, sit in. I mean, sure, we all of a sudden had a physical space for the baby by way of an actual room, but up until a month ago, said room was really a storage area where G kept his tools. Even Obi wasn’t too sure what to make of that room and decided that it was the perfect place to poop on the newly rolled out carpet – hey, when in doubt use it as a bathroom.

I guess that the real “culprit” as to why I haven’t really registered this pregnancy as perhaps a “normal” woman would is that I’ve thankfully felt fine throughout the entire ordeal. It really wasn’t until about 3 weeks ago that I started to feel horrible (thank goodness for government backed maternity leave) and since I worked until the very last day the Chilean government and my employer would allow me to work, my mind was on other things: things I know, things I’m familiar with, things I’m good at. In between of course I read everything under the sun (“What to Expect When You’re not Sure What to Expect,” “What to Expect of Yourself When You’re Expecting to Blow It,” “What to Expect of a Baby with Expectations,” “When Expecting is not What you Expected Unabridged version” “Low Expectations, High Expectations and Baby in Between” etc, etc, what have you) and in reading found out way too much information about va-jay-jays, secretions, stretching and tearing and pooping when you least expect it. So what I’m saying here is this: I prepared as best I could but in reality, I prepared as if I were going into a final exam at the end of the nine months where I’d be tested on all things studied.

Here's what I imagined via Babble Blogs: Strollerderby

Except, now I know that this isn’t really going to go down like I thought (and by that I mean “read”) it would.
I hope I’m not alone in revealing that BEFORE this whole preggo ordeal I imagined birth to be like in the movies: blood, screaming, gooey, disgusting mess and total unexpected craziness. In the movies, the water breaks, the lady starts with her blood curdling screams, we fast forward to a sterile, cold birthing room, blood splattered walls, more screaming and then a slimy baby popping out from the hoo-ha. In fact it would seem that the first part of my experience isn’t going to catch me off guard at all. I had these visions that I’d be walking around the grocery store and then SPLASH!! – said water breaking and everyone around me slipping and sliding to avoid a gross encounter. I imagined having to call G detailing how “far apart” the contractions were coming and subsequently speeding down the highway so as not to pop a baby out in a car down by the river.

I know that this preggo journey is going to be over either tomorrow or, at the latest, Monday. I feel like I’ve had a total of one month to mentally prepare for this and, OF COURSE, I don’t feel prepared. I should feel like I’ve had months and months to prepare but because of my own idiosyncrasy, I didn’t afford myself this luxury of time. But then again, who’s to say that I didn’t actually do myself a favor? I mean, birth and having a baby isn’t something that one can “study” or “train” for. In fact, nine times out of ten, each time I read something, I end up freaking out or imagining a worst case scenario version of whatever I happened to have just read. What I mean by all this is, had I afforded myself the time to marinate on the pending momdom that’s fast approaching me, I would have ended up more neurotic than I already am. Despite this, I know that sitting on this side of pregnancy, a day will come when I’m on the OTHER side (i.e. with baby outside) and I’ll think back to this period and kick myself for not having known better. Even now I know that I should have embraced it more, but in the moment I just couldn’t.

And so, where do I stand given that possibly tomorrow (or Monday at the latest) a baby (A BABY!!!) that’s been a-cookin’ for the past 9+ months will make its debut? Yes, I’m scared – there’s just no way around that. However, I can’t say I’m not armed with information. If there’s something that I’ve been doing it’s reading every single day about every single possible topic related to pregnancy, newborns, bringing home baby, pooping and all that’s in between. If I were to be tested on this matter, I’d pass with flying colors, win a spanking brand new baby and a year’s supply of Turtle Wax 5-in-1 Fresh Shine Protectant. Pass me the Scantron, my #2 pencil is sharpened!

I seriously can’t believe that this period of my life is almost over. I’m not gung-ho-happy-to-be-preggo lady but it’s a time in my life that will never happen again – kind of how I view my wedding. I’m glad I have pictures of that so I can look back and remember “Oh yeah” about all the details. And speaking of pictures, throughout this pregnancy I never really shared any pictures of my pygmy hippo-ness … well, for the sake of posterity, here are a few:

6.5 months


7.5 months


9 months (with my numba one stunna)

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April 20, 2012
by Andrea
0 comments

Time warp

Ever since I moved to Chile in July 2009, I’ve entered a time warp. I kind of feel a little like Han Solo when he was frozen in carbon. Or for the younger generation of readers, like Austin Powers when he was cryogenically frozen for 30 years.

Our dearest Han, hung on a wall after being frozen. Via Star Wars Wiki

The point being that once I left San Francisco, it seems I just placed a bookmark where I left off so as to return at some point in the future and catch up on what’s been going on since I left. For instance, since I left the U.S., several things have occurred that I simply have no idea about, almost as if they came out of nowhere. Examples:

- Nicki Minaj – who is this and what does she do? Why do we care? Can someone give me a 90s or early 2000s equivalent, please? Also, please shed some light on why she looks that way.

- Tim Tebow – Ok, I get that he’s a football player and that this concept of “tebowing” was apparently brought to light because of him but…. no, wait, I beg to differ. Haven’t football players been getting down on one knee to thank God for that touchdown for like, EVER?? Again, what the hell? Why is he a big deal?

- Wikileaks – is it just me or is it eerily similar to Deep Throat and those involved in ultimately bringing down the Nixon administration? Whistle blowers or am I wrong?

- Leslie Nielsen DIED??!!!!!! Surely you can’t be serious. I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.

- Glee – what is it and why was it so popular? Is it still popular? Is it like High School Musical, which is like Kids Incorporated which is like FAME?

Via childrenofthenineties.blogspot.com


And don’t even get me started on social media!! Facebook Timeline, Google+, Tumblr, Pinterest – seriously I feel like my mom. All she wants in life is for someone to bring back her classic Motorola flip phone. What’s even more bothersome is that via osmosis I used to at least get some of the things that now completely blow my mind. How did this happen?? Did I spend too much time trying to figure out what’s going on in Chile that I lost sight of other details? Or is it that I simply stopped being around and associating with people who used to shed some light on all these mysterious things?

You know how we sit back and wonder at times when our dear old grandparents just stopped getting it? Well, apparently it happens at 35-ish!!!!

This brings me to the main topic at hand – this handy little site I stumbled upon just recently called Timehop. Now perhaps this is something all of you knew about since June of 2010 or something, but given all I’ve just laid out for you, it’s a big deal that I even know about this site AND FURTHER, found out about it on my own, so cut me some slack!

For the 2-odd people out there who may not know what it is, let me explain (bursting with pride and smugness, mind you, at the fact that I am explaining to YOU something I knew first! A-ha!!) – Timehop is a service that you subscribe to which taps into any social media account you may have and goes back one year in time to see what your status updates were on that particular site. Depending on how many social media outlets you register, Timehop taps them, compiles the info and sends you a daily email with the information. Hence, your own personal time capsule. I’m thinking it’s something that Facebook is trying to do with said Timeline but via Timehop, the info just appears in your inbox so you don’t have to do ANY searching or investigating. Viola! A time capsule for the lazy and unmotivated.

Let’s take a looksie, shall we?

The first Timehop email I got after subscribing was on April 11th of this year, which means that the email contained tweets and FB status updates from April 11, 2011. I didn’t recall at the time, but apparently a year ago I was flying out to NYC for work. Below, some snippets:

Via my Gmail Inbox

Apparently on April 11th I was catching the flight out to NYC and was, not to mention, a little bitter about the fact that I wasn’t traveling in Business.

The following day, April 12th, I received my info from a year earlier:

Via my Gmail Inbox

Obvi that a year ago on April 12th I was sublimely happy because 1) I was in NYC in 2) my fave – rainy weather, about to 3) hang out with good friends, in the meantime 4) going to the best place on Earth – TARGET then 5) eating and drinking to my little heart’s content, finally followed by sweet dreams in a 6) posh NYC hotel . I mean, if I didn’t just describe YOUR perfect day too then something’s wrong with you.

Of course, not all emails bring me back to a clear and precise moment in time. For example, the email from this morning with information from exactly a year ago:

Via my Gmail Inbox

Someone had their panties in a bunch…

Anyway, since coming across this site I should really get on updating my Twitter and Facebook feeds more often. Being that I’m DAYS from giving birth, you’d think I’d want to chronicle this experience a bit more (aside from SOME blog posts you may have taken a gander at, I’ve done NO chronicling.) My point being is that I really, really like this little site I stumbled across earlier this month. Like, a lot. On the one hand I’m patting myself on the back for finding SOMETHING on my own that seems cool (even if this has come and gone and I’m way behind the trend. So be it!) On the other hand, I find it very cool that there is now a service that will facilitate reminders of a moment in time from my past. And the best thing of all is that I don’t have to do anything that I don’t ALREADY do (i.e. update Twitter and FB whenever I deem necessary).

And for those of you out there that are tech wizards, ahead-of-the-curve hipsters, trend-setters and just basically IN THE KNOW, please consider providing a public service (to me) and filling me in on things that will steer me more towards “cool mom” as opposed to antiquated grandma (which is the direction I’m apparently heading towards at the age of 35! Ack!) After all, think about how sad it is that I just discovered Adele in November of 2011 … not only that, specifically “Rolling in the Deep.”

I mean… c’mon!!! Toss me a frickin’ bone here. I’m at the mercy of your wealth of knowledge and only this will differentiate me from lifelong “cool mom” or lifelong “lame mom.” What’s it gonna be?

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April 18, 2012
by Andrea
5 Comments

What are you going to do about your dog?

This is a question I get asked a lot. My response (in my head) is “What are you going to do about your face?” But of course that’s my inside voice.

In the 2.5 years that I’ve had Obi, my spoiled and loveable bulldog, I’ve grown used to the different reactions that people have regarding my dog. In the beginning it really, really bothered me but as time passed, I began to take the advice of well-wishers and began to brush off the mean and ignorant comments people had about him. I also learned to accept that everyone else didn’t have to like my dog as much as I like him and that it was ok if people were scared of him. Yes, I reserved the right to judge those people but in the end, I stopped letting it bother me and I stopped reacting so aggressively.

Who's afraid of the big, bad bulldog?

The irony is that in the past two years since I’ve had Obi, bulldogs have become one of the top ten “pure” breed dogs preferred by Chileans and with each passing year, the breed is becoming more and more popular (if commercials featuring bulldogs are any indication or the increasing number of bullies I see being walked around our neighborhood.) As per usual, the thing with Chile is this: if you wait long enough, thanks to the Internet and globalization in general, eventually people come around and seem to “get” where you’re coming from. That’s the silver lining of being an expat, and, let’s face it, the main consolation when I feel like griping about something pertaining to life in Chile.

However, one thing I have yet to wait out is the prevailing belief held by many that now that a baby is on the way, I should have some kind of answer to the question “what are you going to do with your dog?” Obviously to me, this question makes no sense. It would be like asking a second-time mom what she’s going to do with her 3-year old son now that she has another bun in the oven. Let me clarify: I’m not stating that some prep work isn’t required. I’m just saying that the question posed seems to imply an equal answer from my side (i.e. we’re having him slaughtered and stuffed, then we’re mounting his head on our wall. What?) Yes, this imaginary answer is ridiculous (I would NEVER!) but it reflects just how ridiculous I find the question that is asked over and over again by all KINDS of people, dog lovers and haters alike!

That aside, of course, the loaded question does bring to light the fact that some groundwork needs to happen. The fact of the matter is that Obi is just as part of the family as any other human equivalent under this roof and the poor little guy has the total disadvantage, that, unlike the rest of us, he hasn’t had months of prep time to get used to the idea of a baby. In fact, I don’t think he’s wired to like small, creepy, crawly things. First of all, he lunges at moths and swallows them whole. Second, if he sees a bug, he hides under the bed (apparently moths aren’t bugs in his head). Third, he barks really loudly at the vacuum when one is lugging it from room to room while cleaning (this being an example of something crawly, naturally). Finally, when I recently took him to the vet, we encountered a bulldog puppy that drove him insane. Apparently too small, too energetic and too bouncy for his liking. Check out the video below.

In all seriousness, I do believe that Obi will continue to be our loveable bulldog once the baby arrives. The main thing that we need to constantly remember (and some free unsolicited advice from yours truly) is to CHANGE AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE OF THE DOG’S NORMAL LIFE. In our case, what does it mean?

1.) Will Obi’s sleeping area be changed because of the baby?
No. He’ll continue to sleep where he’s always slept, right here in our room at the foot of our bed.

2.) Will Obi’s eating area be changed once the baby arrives?
No, it will continue to be in the kitchen, twice a day, once in the morning and once at night.

3.) Will any new rooms in the apartment be suddenly off limits to him because of the baby?
At present, no, but sooner or later this will change a bit since I don’t want him picking up small toys from the baby’s room and choking on them. However, he’s used to suddenly having rooms off-limits to him. For instance, right now, the dining room and living room are off limits because of a recent “accident” in both rooms (Grrrrr….)

In addition, what else are we doing?
1.) We play videos of baby’s crying, cooing, laughing, etc so he can get used to the sound.
2.) We walk around with the Cabbage Patch Kid my mother gave me when I was 8-years old (yes, you read that correctly), which we lull to sleep, carry around, pretend to feed, etc, etc … like some 30-something year old nutjobs. We even dressed this doll in the baby’s future duds. I kid you not.

Currently the would-be baby sleeps in the future baby's bassinet. She's wiiiild!

3.) We’re brushing up on the commands he learned during his 6-month long obedience training (just in case!)

4.) Once I’m at the hospital, we’ll be sending home the clothes that the baby first wore so he can get a good ol’ whiff of the baby’s scent prior to her arrival at home.

Are they bonding or what?

Am I delusional in thinking that our dog will adapt? No, I truly believe that we’re going to be ok. The fact of the matter is that the baby is going to be an adjustment for EVERYONE, including G’s kids. The thing to keep in mind is that we need to address any kind of “rejection” or “odd” behavior with patience and strategy. Obi’s not going to be the first or last dog to have to adjust to a new baby in the house just as G’s kids aren’t going to be the first kids to adjust to the same thing. And I honestly believe Obi will do well. After all, he adores G’s kids and has never caused them any harm. In addition, so far, he seems to get a kick out of the would-be baby.

The point being is that, yes, I agree that some prep work needs to be done with any dog who’s about to realize that his “only child” status is about to be sabotaged in some way. This is part of responsible dog ownership, no?

Though the fact still remains that Obi will forever be my first baby, no matter what the haters think and no matter what other women tell me about “not knowing love until you meet your baby…” blah, blah, blah, BARF. I know love and I’ll know new love with the baby, let’s not confuse things. I love my husband, I love my dog and accordingly, I’ll love the baby. I see no competition. After all, no matter how much I love the baby or how cute ANY baby is, how can one NOT adore this loveable, wrinkly tub of love??

Obi's official Glamour shot.

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April 13, 2012
by Andrea
0 comments

Just keep swimming

What is matronatacion and why should you care?

Actually you needn’t care, not unless you’re a little beached whale like I am these days. However, it’s something that I just recently tried and I thought I’d share my experience with those out there who are looking for information on what it’s like to be preggo in Chile (as an expat). There’s lots of ground to cover on that topic but for now, I’m going to share just a wee bit on matronatacion specifically – or water workouts for (human) preggo pygmy hippos.

Who dat? A pygmy hippo! Cute as a botton. Photo courtesty of Vision O2

[Disclaimer: Now, unless you're a complete moron, or otherwise desensitized to all things empirically adorable, it's hard not to notice that pygmy hippos are, in fact, quite cute. This is the reason I use the pygmy hippo as a metaphor for myself and in general, cute preggo ladies. If you're offended by this, I'll assume what I asserted in the first sentence of this disclaimer - 1) you're a moron or 2) you've been genetically altered to NOT recognize what is clearly all kinds of adorable. As such, I pity the fool.]

Last week I attended my first matronatacion (water workout) class at MEDS Mall Sport in Las Condes. Actually, this first class has been pending since January, when sweet, sweet, chocolate-covered G gave me eight sessions of these water workouts as a birthday present. Unfortunately it wasn’t until now, that I’m on maternity leave, that I actually had time to trek all the way to BFE Mall Sport in Las Condes for this class.

The class is led by a midwife (midwife assistance and expertise is common practice during most labors here in Chile) and though at first glance it would seem that the purpose of the class is to provide a workout for us pygmys, the reality of the benefits of these classes goes far beyond just providing a cardiovascular, low impact workout for the mom-to-be. The main goals of these workouts are to strengthen the following three areas: ab muscles (for pushing the baby out and, let’s face it, to snap back to pre-preggo shape post popping it out), pelvis (you know, so you don’t break in two when the baby comes rearing its ugly head from in between your legs) and the…ew … perineal area (which is the area that lies somewhere between your hoo-ha and that place they say the sun doesn’t shine. You know, the “money-shot” favored by porno directors the world over.) Apparently mastering these three areas, along with the right kind of breathing and relaxation techniques (in my case, i.e. epidural) make for an “uneventful” and “easy” labor. As such, the midwife that leads these classes believes that working out in the weightlessness that water provides, allows pregnant women to work these three areas successfully in preparation for labor. Other benefits include a healthy, lightweight cardiovascular workout for the mom, enhanced flexibility and increased blood flow to all pertinent areas (wherever those may be.)

Bobbing in the water like little bueys. Photo courtesty of NYT Blogs

Upon further inquiry about water aerobics classes for preggo ladies, I learned that in the U.S. it’s been studied that women who partake in these kinds of exercises are less likely to request pain relievers during labor (i.e. epidurals, for example.) Now, I don’t know if there’s a correlation or not because I don’t know if bobbing about in the water is really going to make me forgo all kinds of medication and entice me to go all natural. I know me and me doesn’t fit in well with the whole 100% natural, granola-esque way of living. I mean, seriously, MORE POWER to those women who do it all natural and for reasons that make sense, even choose to do so submerged in water, but that ain’t me, baby. Here’s where I do see some kind of correlation to the claims: the fact of the matter is that these water aerobic classes are trying. As in any workout, you do repetitive motions so as to “train” muscles and build endurance for longer hauls. I was literally spent and almost breathless on several occasions (not to mention that I of course swallowed water and started sputtering about like an idiot, gasping for air on two occasions…in 4.5 feet of water, mind you.)

The next day was ugly for me. I felt like a burlap bag that had been hit by Bam-Bam’s club one too many times.

Ouch.


It hurt to walk, to lay down, to get up and just basically, to be. As luck would have it, my mom was with me the entire day and though that’s great, she was convinced I was going into labor (which I clearly wasn’t) due to all the pain I was in. The reality is that I’m 8+ months preggo and I spent an hour in a lovely, warm pool, doing exercises I’ve actually NEVER done in my life. Yeah, I was in pain! But it was my first time and regardless of the fact that I hurt the next day, I think it’s worth the pain, if anything because I want to believe it will help build SOME kind of endurance for D-Day. After all, how further off is labor? Aside from the obvious things, I’ll be doing something I’ve never done and be put into positions I’ve never been in. I’ll be out of breath and who knows, maybe even choking and sputtering like I was in the pool. But if my abs, pelvis and that other nether region are stronger and will help me bounce back “sooner,” then I say ok.

**UPDATE**
After writing the bulk of this post, I continued to be in pain after the water aerobics class. Because of this, I made the wise decision of forgoing any further sessions. I’d like to reiterate that it’s not because this isn’t a fabu alternative for preggo pygmys like me to partake in some healthy, active workouts. But the reality is that I should have started these classes at 20-odd weeks and not at 35 weeks. By this time, there is just way too much going on with your larger-than-life body (more than meets the eye, Transformers style!) and a mere lap across the pool – assisted by floaties, mind you – is enough to get your heart racing and make casual conversation virtually impossible.

Just keep swimming, naked little baby. Photo courtesy of Sleevage.com

So the verdict is in. Matronatacion, or water aerobic workout for pregnant ladies, is a fine alternative for a healthy workout… but don’t even THINK about trying to attempt this for the first time when you’re 35+ weeks preggo. You’re heavier than you think, your range of motion isn’t what you remember it to be and your silly little heart will beat way past what you’ll find comfortable. I honestly really liked it and wish I could go back, but to say it was uncomfortable at the stage I’m at would be an understatement.

Besides, the classes I haven’t yet used can be used for swim lessons with the baby pygmy soon-to-come. Visions of Nevermind dance in my head.

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March 28, 2012
by Andrea
0 comments

Crime, punishment … and justice?

If I write the name Daniel Zamudio, does it mean anything to you?

What if I wrote Daniel Zamudio is equal to or as similar as Matthew Shepard? Do you even remember him?

I have to admit that when I heard Matthew Shepard in comparison to the recent events surrounding Daniel Zamudio here in Chile, I had to do quick Google search. I didn’t immediately remember Matthew Shepard because his death occurred in 1998, just as I was spending a good four months living in Chile prior to starting my Junior year in college at UC Davis. In other words, I was too wrapped up in my own little world to have remembered the event or the subsequent rally for changes that occurred after it.

Daniel Zamudio passed away on March 27th, after almost a month-long grasp at life. He was beaten and tortured in early March by four men, claiming to be Neonazis. Once hospitalized, Daniel was put in an induced coma and was declared brain-dead just this past weekend. And now he’s passed on.

This doesn’t sound all that different from what occurred to Matthew Shepard on the night of October 6, 1998. A young, homosexual man, at the wrong place at the wrong time, surrounded by monsters who didn’t see him as human. Who saw him as less than human, enough so, that torture seemed irrelevant, the term almost not-applicable.

I wonder about the kind of school, whether formal or environmental, one needs to be exposed to so as to regard violence – no, TORTURE – as irrelevant to a human or living being. In an attempt to wrap my mind around such acts, motivated strictly and only by hate and fear, I recalled quite vividly a course I took in college on Criminology. Before my Chilean counterparts ask themselves why on Earth I took a Criminology course in college when in fact I studied something completely different, briefly speaking, in the U.S. you are encouraged (forced) to study a wealth of subject matters during your first two years of studies. I had a sociology requirement and the criminology course fulfilled that requirement.

"Crime and Punishment" - classic novel by Fyodor Dostoyevsky that takes us into a criminal mind and the motivation for murder.

Mostly what I remember about this course, where the first three months were spent explaining the different theories as to why criminals exist or why criminal acts occur, are two things: 1) it freaked me out and 2) there are theories upon theories upon theories behind the criminal mind. Last night I took to our storage room and after rummaging through some boxes, found my sophomore year notebook where my sorry version of notes from this class were buried deep. I guess I could have Googled the theories but I found it easier to refer to these notes because they were written in they “lay-est” of layperson’s terms (don’t worry, I won’t run through ALL of them – there are lots!)

The most basic of basic theories (and the oldest) is this: crime is a choice. People choose crime because there is absence of true punishment. This, coupled with self-interest, motivates the choice to commit crime.

Yet another theory states that criminals have different biological and/or psychological traits from those who are not criminals.

Another theory states that crime is learned, for example, via peers who are criminals or perhaps even in environments where crime per se isn’t condoned but isn’t necessarily frowned upon either (a controversial example I offer you: when purchasing pirated items is considered justified and not a crime.) Yes, I realize that especially here in Chile this is a controversial example.

Yet another theory tells us that when someone can’t achieve “normal” success (money, status, power, etc) via non-criminal routes, the pressure of this will result in crime under certain conditions.

Believe it or not, there is even a theory that states that our daily activities affect the likelihood that we’ll become a target of crime, especially if there is no type of authority or guardianship present during the process of said routine activities. I don’t so much like this theory because it reflects the outcome of crime on me. As if just going to the grocery store is a reason for someone to act out (towards me) in a criminal manner.

Fifteen years after taking this course and after scanning pages and pages of notes from this time period, if I had to deduce why people commit crimes (again, based purely on my notes) it would be either because of 1) control, 2) opportunity, 3) social learning and 4) strain and/or pressure.

Why all this?

Simply my feeble attempt to make sense of acts that, to me, make no sense at all. I simply cannot imagine hating someone SO MUCH based solely on that person’s preference of who they like and who they decide to be intimate with. Why is that my problem? Why was that their problem when they attacked Daniel? Why then, is the same rationale not continuously rehearsed, say, with prostitutes? Or people who marry, then divorce, marry, then divorce? This isn’t a statement to condone but a statement questioning why this rationale is limited to a homosexual? But that’s my rational mind trying to make sense of irrational impulses and reasoning.

Personally I blame the society where these criminals have spent the majority of their time. Delusions of grandeur (based on the fact that they are proclaimed neonazis), lack of proper and immediate punishment from authorities, ignorance, poor stimuli, learned and justified criminal activities, family support or lack thereof. Finally, in some form, I believe that in the case of Matthew Shepard as with Daniel Zamudio, their attackers also had fear in common. Though I’m sure they wouldn’t agree with that …

I wonder if my own personal reaction to these acts are in some way “criminal-minded” as well? In cases like this, I would support eye-for-an-eye. No questions asked. No rehabilitation, no mercy. Why is this? Because I’m angry. I’m angry that such barbaric acts continue to occur in this day and age and I’m angry that the powers-that-be have not introduced sufficient deterrents of such crimes. And it angers – and scares – me that the perpetrators, as well as would-be perpetrators, just don’t care. This is a cycle that I see: There is lax authority and so, the would-be perpetrators aren’t deterred. How can the authorities really instill iron-fist consequences to such acts when surely there are still a great number out there who don’t “agree” with homosexuality? Though I’d like to think that even if they don’t “agree” with it, surely they wouldn’t condone such violence?

RIP, Daniel Zamudio

In the end I guess this process of trying to comprehend the incomprehensible is all pretty much in vain. It’s not going to bring Matthew Shepard back any more than it will bring Daniel Zamudio back. It can’t erase the hatred that exists in this world towards people who simply choose other options. It doesn’t revert ignorance and it doesn’t feed kindness and understanding. Criminal minds don’t care and the authorities and powers-that-be will continue to lament without really offering urgently needed solutions (deterrents, as I like to say). The examples we have are in the Matthew Shepard case itself. Though this crime occurred in 1998, it wasn’t until 2009 that President Obama was finally able to sign the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act, which expanded existing United States federal hate crime law to apply to crimes motivated by a victim’s sexual orientation (among other things). In the case of Matthew Shepard, legislation caught on almost a decade later. It makes me wonder how long it will be until Chilean legislation and subsequent law enforcement react accordingly to the acts of violence committed against Daniel Zamudio.

Though really, is justice ever truly served?

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March 28, 2012
by Andrea
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Thicker than water

For the past few weeks I’ve had family on my mind. I’ve been delving into all kinds of definitions and portrayals of family and here are a few of my faves and not-so-faves:

According to a simple Google search:
fam·i·ly/ˈfam(ə)lē/
A group consisting of parents and children living together in a household.

From Wikipedia:
In human context, a family (from Latin: familia) is a group of people affiliated by consanguinity, affinity, or co-residence. In most societies it is the principal institution for the socialization of children.

From Merriam-Webster:
a: a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head : household
b : a people or group of peoples regarded as deriving from a common stock
c : a group of persons of common ancestry : clan

From the U.S. Census Bureau:
“A family is a group of two people or more (one of whom is the householder) related by birth, marriage, or adoption and residing together.”

After a while googling and contemplating two-dimensional meanings of the term family, I considered more entertaining portrayals of family, such as:

The Bluths. (and my personal faves) Photo courtesy of Womansday.com

The (new) Addams Family. Photo courtesy of Fanpop.com

The Arnolds! Photo courtesy of abcnews.go.com

The Hoovers from Little Miss Sunshine. Photo courtesy of IMDb.com

I much rather the depictions of family that Hollywood provides because the mom, dad, sister, brother, dog, cat realities that are out there are, frankly, a dwindling version of the kind of family that currently exists in the majority of households around the world.

When I was growing up in San Francisco, I didn’t really pay much attention to the family units of my classmates. When I moved to the suburbs, said family units were all up in my face and I quickly realized that my type of family unit was just…”weird” (for lack of a better word AND to use a word that an insecure, 14-year old might use.) I had my mom, of course, the solid rock in my life growing up. I also had a stepfather I actually really, really hated though I think I blindly tried to convince myself that I liked him AND, even funnier, that he liked me. I had a sister but said sister was always in Chile so I never really grew up with her and for the record, never, ever – to this day – bonded with her. I had aunts, uncles, cousins – all who lived in Chile, all with whom I never shared more than a week out of each year with. In short, I kind of grew up a loner (in the family sense.)

Given this, who, in turn, did I look to – and still look to – as my family? Well my well-intentioned, solid-as-a-rock, often-times-pain-in-the-ass mother, for one. And I could NEVER even utter the word “family” without immediately conjuring up images of my Tio Pato. Along that note, no image of my family could ever be complete without also picturing my cousin Tony, Uncle Pato’s son. With this, I also throw into the mix a handful of amazingly good friends and at that, we call it a day. For reals.

When I was younger, my “weird” version of family really bothered me because I compared myself to other people and what their families looked like – from the outside. But that’s just it – I saw their families from the outside and most likely projected my ideals onto them, even if that wasn’t necessarily their reality either. Who knows? Maybe their families were even weirder than mine! And of course, as one grows up and meets people from different walks of life, one begins to realize that all KINDS of families exist out there and that, just because I grew up in Edward Scissorhands-town where all family units seemed to be derived from the 1950s mold, not everyone had the standard, formerly stereotypical family. It felt good to realize this and it felt good to let it go.

That’s not to say that certain things about “family” don’t really toy with my emotions and/or generally piss me off. To begin, yes, it does make me a bit sad that my soon-to-appear kid won’t have little cousins and lots of aunts and uncles with whom to share memories with. I have one sister, divorced, (that I never see) who happens to have kids that are either 15 or 9 years older than my soon-to-appear kid; G has one brother who isn’t tied down and who doesn’t have kids. Between the two of us we have one aunt and one uncle to offer our kid and two cousins, both boys. It’s slim pickins’ for the little one, slim pickins’.

That makes me sad. What pisses me off is the fact that my father’s side of the family, father included (and yes, biologically I do have a father) kind of threaded through life pretending I didn’t exist – type of “out of sight, out of mind” just because I lived in another country. And the irony here is that THAT family is typical in so many ways and there are lots and lots of cousins and second cousins, etc that would MORE than make up for the lack of siblings G and I have to offer … but alas, that entire group is pretty much a non-issue due to the way things worked out in my life. As a result, they’ll be a non-issue for the soon-to-emerge kid.

My immediate family now consists of my husband, my beloved Obi and of course, my mom. Soon we’ll add a daughter. I think about G’s kid’s version of family and I actually think it’s awesome. They have an active mom and dad, they also have a stepmom (me) and will soon have a stepdad. Then they’ll have a half-sister (the current pea-in-the-pod) and I’m sure that their mom will likely have more kids and so then they’ll have yet another half-sibling. In addition to this, they have three or four uncles, all of whom have small kids ages 2 months – 6 years old. Despite not living in a “traditional” mom and dad household, they truly have a lovely version of what is family. For them, family get-togethers are truly family get-togethers.

I think the best those of us with the non-traditional sense of the word family can do is embrace the people that matter. I know this sounds simple and elementary but at the end of the day, I realize that as time passes the “traditional” family has morphed. It no longer includes JUST your dad or JUST your mom. It no longer includes only a sister and a brother, uncles, aunts and cousins. And it might just be a mom, dad and dog or mom and daughter. Or uncle and son. There are a million variations and everything seems pretty legit.

From my personal experience, blood does not a family member make. The proof for me is apparent in my reality. I have five uncles and aunts on my mom’s side of the family and in turn, through them, have 12 cousins. The reality is that of all those “family members” I truly only consider half of them family and only 2 of them true, immediate family. On my father’s side I have four aunts and uncles and through them about 12 cousins as well. Aside from my nephews, I consider NONE of them to be family (they should be so lucky.) And we’re supposed to believe that blood makes the relative and that relative makes the family? This truly is a subject matter that is up for interpretation and a subject matter that begs the redefinition of the concept of family.

Would you agree that the word and meaning of family is fantastically loaded? Do you think it’s open for real interpretation?

Discuss.

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February 10, 2012
by Andrea
8 Comments

What the hell am I going to do with a baby?

After writing my last post, it dawned on me that I threw a curve ball at you with that whole baby news hidden beneath the oooh’s and aaaah’s of our fabulous Asian vacation.

Then it dawned on me, maybe people want to hear my perspective on this preggo bit. Maybe they wonder how someone like me, someone who wrote several posts portraying conflicting views on the subject of having kids, is actually handling the fact that she’s preggo. Maybe others want to hear all about this new stage in my life and want to embark with me on this crazy adventure…. yeah… maybe people really, really care!!

Juuuuuust kidding.

Do you think I’m really that egocentric? Because I’m not.

In all seriousness, there are two reasons why I feel compelled to write about this baking bun in the oven: 1) I’d like to have a chronicle of this moment in time only because I’m interested in keeping a personal account of my history – it’s cool to look back on! 2) I think it’s only fair to put other sentiments out there, not just the typical “We’re-pregnant-and-we’re-overjoyed-with-our-soon-to-be-bundle-of-joy!” sentiments.

I found out I was preggo in September. Thinking about that now, it seems like forever ago. I mean, I found out before el dieciocho – think about it THAT way. Is it just me or wasn’t that like a million and a half hours ago? My “how-I-found-out” story is super typical – monthly visitor doesn’t arrive and you head over to the local pharmacy for one your average pee-on-a-stick tests.

Your friendly neighborhood pee-on-a-stick test. Note: this one isn't mine.

Except in usual Chilean fashion, there was a 2-for-1 deal on pee sticks so in the end I bought 2 tests for the price of one. Yes, before you have to ask, I did use both – just in case! And may I just take this opportunity to state that these tests are NOT like you see on tv. That second line that’s supposed to appear in the event that your eggo is preggo actually makes its appearance ever so slowly. Also, it plays Jedi Mind tricks on you. Like those images where you have to “relax your eyes” in order to see the hidden 3D image. You think you’re seeing the other line appear but then you don’t And then you do, but wait, you don’t. Do you? I realized rather quickly that this 2-for-1 deal was actually a life saver. I could have sat for daaaaaaaaaaaays wondering about the validity of the appearing disappearing line…

So what happened once I knew for sheez?

Nothing major, sorry to break it to you. I didn’t squeal, jumping up and down for joy. I didn’t freak out wondering “Dear God WHY ME?” (contrary to what I may have led myself to believe a few years ago.) I wasn’t overwhelmingly happy and I wasn’t disastrously disappointed either. I was very matter-of-fact, as a matter of fact. I took the information, processed it and proceeded to calculate the necessary next steps in such an event. Kind of like a fire drill! One thing I didn’t feel was like it was MINE. I didn’t look at my stomach or touch it in awe. I was, in fact, rather removed. I cognitively got it but the emotion was very practical. Sorry to disappoint those who don’t get what I’m writing but my main goal in life has NEVER been to be a mom, neither back then nor now.

Anyway, where was I?

Right – the practical steps to follow upon finding out you’re preggo. Call husband or sig other!

G was at a local event center at some kind of stationery fair where his company had an exhibit. Our conversation started out just shooting the sh*t, hearing about his day, what he was doing, when he’d be home and oh by the way, are you busy? PS I’m preggo. No joke that’s kind of how it went. To this day G can’t believe that’s how I told him. I mean the guy knows me better than anyone else – what the hell did he expect? Fireworks?!! His reaction was more of what I’m sure you imagine and hope for in a father-to-be. It was cute; he was so excited. I was glad mainly because I felt guilty. I mean, the poor kid was on its mega journey of life and my reaction was as if a sales lady had told me she couldn’t find my bra size in the department store, but not to worry, she’d call another store to see if they had my size and if so, to hold it.

Pregnancy is like going through puberty all over again (and I imagine menopause must be similar.) Strange things are afoot with one’s body and to quote Wayne Campbell from Wayne’s World 2 “… I’m starting to get hair in really weird places, man. I feel like I’m turning into Sasquatch.” No, not really. You do go through some cray cray changes that you forgot one single body could handle, though. Thankfully, I can attest to the fact that one does NOT spend the first three months hurling five times a day, every day. One doesn’t randomly faint, either. I’m sure that this has happened to many ladies out there but I’m here to attest that it doesn’t happen to everyone and what’s typical for some just doesn’t even come close to others. There is such thing as a pretty uneventful pregnancy and this is, happily, my case. It’s as if the baby and I have mutually agreed upon: “Listen up sister, I’ve got shit to do and people to see so if you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you and I’ll just go on with my business of making things happen.”

Geez I like her already for that attitude. Eyes on the prize, little one, eyes on the prize.

And that’s another point. Where is it written that the instant a woman becomes preggo she has to all of a sudden fall instantly in love with and drool over the pod growing inside? This of course is G’s instant reaction ” I LOVE THE BABY!” and all I can think is HOW can you love the baby? It hasn’t even introduced itself to us. For all we know, she might be a total drag. I’m just sayin’. I know most people will find this atrociously weird but the reality, for me, is this: yes I’m growing a life and yes I’m thankful things have gone well, but the truth is that I feel no real emotional bond with the baby – not yet. I’ve heard that his can be normal but again, I’m not about what’s “normal” or not, especially living here in Chile (all mom’s seem to be obsessed with their babies, to the point of annoyance.) If I hear one more mom tell me how her life has become all about the baby and that I will soon find out what it truly means to love, I’m going to f-ing snap. Shut the hell up, already.

Why such brash views, you ask? As I mentioned, my life has never revolved around having a baby. It’s never been my life goal or even a TOP FIVE life goal. I always thought of having a baby in a sort of abstract kind of way. Almost as if I’d someday become a mom by accident, kind of like how Diane Keaton became a mom in the 80s movie “Baby Boom” (she inherited the baby from a hick cousin.) In fact, all my life I’ve had two different “anxiety” dreams (you know, the kind where you find you’re naked in the middle of a crowded room.) My dream always involved me, going about my merry way in life, and randomly looking down and realizing that not only was I ready-to-pop pregnant but that I was being rushed to the hospital because I was literally about to pop. This whole notion that I was pregnant and didn’t even know it. I’ve seriously had this anxiety dream for my entire adult life. See? In my most subconscious of minds having a baby was always at the back of my mind.

I’m realizing that there is a lot of ground to cover with baby blogging. I’m sure I’ll be inclined to write more posts about the baby journey but initially I just wanted to throw it out there, for those who might care or even relate, that for the most part, I feel that this whole baby thing is weeeiiiiiirrrrrrd. Who would have imagined ME as a mom? I don’t even particularly like kids (so annoying) or their parents when they think that all someone else cares about is seeing their kid do something relatively stupid. Please God, don’t let me become that mom. NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE, likes that mom. I want to be a cool mom, a hip mom. Dress my kid in vintage corduroy rompers and such. Introduce her to the bass guitar and crocheting at the age of three.

Or I might just end up a deadbeat mom. Already I’m so over buying the baby anything that isn’t clothes. How much stuff does a baby need, anyway?? Can’t I just roll her into my sock drawer when she feels like sleeping and call it a day?

After all this, here’s the reality: I’m only half kidding with all these thoughts. There are certain things that are true of course, but some stuff is an exaggeration of what I truly feel, for comedic effects if you will. But what I truly feel, believe it or not, is hope. I hope this baby redefines the notion of “mom” and “baby” for me. I hope this baby brings together the true meaning of family for me (my notion of family is a whole other story that merits an independent blog post). I’m hopeful and excited to teach her about things that matter to me and hopefully she’ll teach me a thing or two of what matters to her. I’m a little selfish and deal with residual only-child syndrome so I imagine that, like the love-of-my-life dog, this baby is going to teach me a thing or two about total and unadulterated generosity.

I guess we’ll see about that, no? Whatever the matter, I’m on this road right now and there is no going back. I’m going to have a BABY. A BABY. What the hell am I going to do with a baby??

Come what may, shit’s about to get REAL.

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January 1, 2012
by Andrea
2 Comments

Memories of my Asian Vacation

Damn SKIPPY, shit changes in a matter of months, now doesn’t it?

Last time we were together (you and I), I was telling you about my upcoming trip to Southeast Asia. No longer “upcoming,” I can now say this trip was amazing, though ridiculously tiring, more so than I could have ever imagined. In the end, we didn’t even go to Cambodia due to the following scene stealer: a month and a half before the trip baby finds out she’s preggo.

We had to scratch Cambodia and opt for modern and clean Singapore instead and as such, this became the final destination on our trip. We began our festivities in Sydney, Australia, where my cooler-than-yours cousin showed us the sights. I had never been to Sydney and was thankful to Tony for showing us sights that are usually reserved for locals (though of course, as you can tell from the picture, we also hit up the usual tourists traps.) I was once again pleasantly reminded of what it was like to be in a place where a variety of food from different cultures was readily available – with the added bonus of it actually being tasty. Also the sense of security I felt in Sydney was welcoming after two and a half years living in Chile and never leaving the house without the angry “I-will-kick-you-in-the-shin-if-you-so-much-as-brush-past-me” look on my face (think of it as armor in this big, bad Santiago). Yes, yes, it was nice to give my face a rest from the perma scowl I sport on a regular. (Hopefully I was able to shave some years off with that facial release….)

After Sydney, G and I hopped an 8-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. What I can say about my limited time in Kuala Lumpur is this:

  • Only the City Centre, where the Petronas Towers are located, is truly modern. Outside of this area, the city experience is much more cultural and much more real.
    Petronas Towers – view from our hotel room
      • I fell in the love with the religious diversity that surrounded me. Do you need a Catholic Church? Just about three miles down. Do you need a Mosque? Right around the corner from the Church. Need a temple? Yeah, we’ve got that too. There were people walking past me in burkas, and next to them, people walking in tank tops and shorts. When you live in Homogeneous Haven (i.e. Chile), things like this really strike you and you begin to embrace with added passion that kind of diversity.
        • The KLCC Shopping Mall was a whole other experience in commerce. I’d never seen anything like it, not even in Tokyo! I particularly fell in love with the Isetan Supermarket located there even though my admitting this may sound rudimentary and ridiculous to some. Isetan is a Japanese retail chain in Malaysia, focused on offering “total lifestyle” options to its shoppers. In KLCC Shopping Mall Isetan spans five floors and offers everything a typical department store might offer and more! The “and more” is what appealed to me most, with its supermarket located on the first floor. Delightfully pristine and bright, I felt like I was Alice wandering around Wonderland. The retail presentation was neatly divided into segments (meat and poultry, frozen foods, health care, desserts, etc, etc) and reminded me of a futuristic Whole Foods. I fell in love. If only we had discovered it sooner so as to have guaranteed a larger chunk of my time there …

        We did see more, mind you. We even did those Hop-on Hop-Off bus tours so as to guarantee seeing as much as possible of the city during our short time there. But this isn’t a travel blog and I have no intention of delivering it as so. What I can tell you is that if you’re in Kuala Lumpur for a short time, like we were, the tour bus option is a great way to get a general overview of the entire city. It also enables you to choose exactly what you’d like to see with more detail in your time allotted by enabling the option of getting off at one point and picking back up where you left off some time after. And it spares your feet from massive amounts of walking!

      Our next stop was Phuket Thailand where we stayed at the Twin Palms Phuket located in the Surin Beach Area. Surin Beach was a great option for us because it was quiet, mellow and very laid back. Absolutely zero party vibe. If you’re into that sort of thing, which we are because we’re old folk trapped in 30-some-old bodies.  I highly recommend this beach. What struck me is that none of the hotels are located along the beach front, a la Mexico and its lovely Caribbean getaways. This is obviously a security measure that makes absolute sense after the devastating 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami which caused immeasurable destruction and loss to the majority of Thailand’s beach areas. This means we had to walk from our truly lovely hotel to the beach and though it wasn’t the most scenic walk, it was short and sweet and the view offered once you walked the 2-minute road was worth it.

      Crystal blue waters of Surin Beach.

      Now, if you’re anything like me, you like to bob or swim in the ocean until you prune. This is what I’m like even though I can’t swim (yes, you read that correctly.) I like to walk into the water until it hits right below my boobs and just … bob. I frolic and wade to and fro … it’s lovely and I have a grand ol’ time. Sometimes I hold my nose and go underwater, just for shits and giggles. Sometimes I do my super doggy paddle (my version of swimming.) But mostly I just bob like a human buoy. I find great pleasure in this and could spend hours and hours doing this, mixed in with some reading under an umbrella. I truly enjoy the view and experience and NOTHING makes me happier than being near (or in) a body of water. I think I was a guppy in my former life, but that’s neither here nor there.

      My husband is a completely different kind of animal when it comes to this. He views beach time as a “to-do” in a beach destination and once he steps foot on the sand, sits for five minutes and dips in the ocean for another two minutes, he figures he can check off beach time from said to-do list and move on to the more interesting parts of travel, walking around aimlessly and getting lost in the culture. Now, I’m all for the last part of this but HOW COULD YOU NOT SPEND MORE THAN 20 MINUTES ON A BEACH IN THAILAND??!! I concluded something is seriously wrong with him and that, truly, the swimming skill is vastly wasted on him. (If I had that skill I’d never leave the water!) He did his best for me though, and all together I think we spent a total of six hours on the beach (we were there six days, mind you). I guess that’s better than nothing.

      We then took a private tour of the island of Phuket for various reasons:

      1. Due to my annoying pregnant-state-of-being, we couldn’t do any excursions to nearby islands (bumping along in a power boat in the middle of the Andaman Sea isn’t advised, I guess.) This was so annoying and so unfortunate, I almost exploded in rage and in no way was I comforted by “but the baby will be ok by staying put” thoughts. I was pissed! Did this baby know how much money, planning, energy and time this trip took to plan??!! I’ll be having a word or two with it regarding the matter once it makes its lovely debut into the world
      2. The Northern Thailand floods were making all kinds of headlines during our two week trip to SEA and repeatedly we read stories about how the flood waters were entering Bangkok and how the majority of tourist attractions were closed to the public. G and I had two choices: risk continuing on with our itinerary to Bangkok, come what may, or stay in Phuket, switch hotels and beaches and just chill until our next destination, Singapore. It was a matter of “stick to what we know” or “wander into the unknown” and as a result, risk losing time and money. We chose to stay three additional days in Phuket and moved on to Karon Beach.

      Before that though, we took the cultural tour of Phuket Island itself. This was a welcomed change for G, given he was overdosing on beach time (how??? I have no idea) and since we wouldn’t have the opportunity to hit Bangkok, this was the next best thing during our stay in Thailand. We opted to hire a private tour guide from our hotel – whose name I forget because I’m horrible like that – but he was great! He took us to some mostly interesting places, such as:

      Old Town - Phuket

      As well as:

      Phuket's Big Buddha in Chalong.

      Fascinatingly enough, funds for this revered project in Phuket come almost entirely from donations. This is the reason as to why it’s taken literally YEARS for this project to be completed. The view from the Big Buddha, is, in short, breathtaking, as are most views from any hilltop in Phuket:

      It’s a little embarrassing to admit that one’s dear, sweet husband needed a “break” from such amazingly pristine water, but alas, such was the case.

      Another high point of our private tour was our visit to Chalong Temple, or Wat Chalong. This temple is dedicated to two very important monks and is a point of pride for many Thais.

      It’s a very impressive compound with various buildings (as well as various souvenir stands, ready to exploit well-intentioned visitors) and is an active religious site where many go to ask for a particular wish or need or show gratitude for a granted wish or need (clearly expressed by the sudden, loud firecrackers that go off – a noisy and startling sign of one’s gratitude.)

      Temple in Wat Chalong

      Our nice driver took us to other places as well, including the Phuket Butterfly Farm where I proceeded to have one anxiety attack after another and faced the realization that, thanks to the ugly moths that invade Santiago during certain times of the year, I actually HATE butterflies. I’m sorry, but aside from their pretty little wings, butterflies are ugly, hairy creatures. I recommend it only if you’re all about butterflies weaving in and out your hair and clothes … but I wasn’t at all impressed. In fact, I pretty much freaked out and have sworn off butterflies for the rest of my life.

      I could go on and on but I insist, this isn’t a travel blog and so, suffice it to say that traveling through the island was quite interesting and I highly recommend it if you’re ever in Phuket and have the time.

      A happy me on Karon Beach.

      After Surin Beach, G and I decided to switch hotels and head off to a more “popular” beach and so, we opted for Karon Beach. I did my usual bobbing and buoying in the crystal clear water, enjoyed fresh fruit under our umbrella (provided by the lady who rented the chairs along the beach) and pretty much sat in awe of the fact that I was sitting there (sweating balls, but there.) The one big downer about this beach was our hotel choice. While G and I normally stick to smaller, boutique style hotels, due to the short notice change in plans (i.e. not traveling to Bangkok after all) the only hotel we could find with vacancy was the Hilton. While the hotel itself is fine, it’s just a big chain that’s been around since DAY ONE on Karon Beach, and has its usual signs of wear and tear. Plus the grounds were just much too big for my liking and the final insult, in my opinion, was the fact that a chain hotel didn’t have a piece of beach designated for its hotel guests. It was fine, no big deal really, but it’s just a personal preference I have when staying in hotels near beaches. Even our small boutique hotel on Surin Beach had a small stretch of beach reserved for its guests. Perhaps we were just spoiled the first time around …

      And so, after six whole days in Thailand, G and I were pretty sunned out and ready to head on to Singapore. And that we did, bound for what we would soon find out would be the most freakishly clean and orderly city south of Tokyo.

      The first thing you notice about Singapore is just how modern it is. The next thing you notice is that it has absolutely no culture and no apparent history (at least, not to the naked eye). I kid you not,  Singapore could easily be “The Truman Show’s” city of choice – nothing and no one is out of place. Chinatown is a good example of this … of all the cities I’ve ever visited with a Chinatown, Singapore’s was the first where bargaining was just not done. G and I made HUGE fools of ourselves trying to haggle prices, only to be looked at with eyes of pity. We had just come from Thailand, where bargaining was the language of choice, where G and I honed our acting skills (walking away if our price wasn’t met, pretending we couldn’t care less for those fake Gucci sunglasses, when really, I did). How could it be that this country frowned upon bargaining in CHINATOWN??? It continues to boggle the mind. But hey, herein lies the glory of traveling – learning that not all drummers march to the same beat. What works in one Chinatown, simply doesn’t work in Singapore’s Chinatown.

      G and I were in Singapore for four days and split the time like this: two days in Sentosa Island and two days in Singapore itself. I’m not really sure what’s behind the whole concept of Sentosa Island but it’s a destination that’s supposed to be a type of fantasy island with various attractions, restaurants and things to do. On the island, the attractions you’ll find are a man-made beach, golf courses, five star hotels, as well as Universal Studios Singapore. We didn’t even step foot on the man-made beach, mainly because we had just come from Phuket and the idea of being on a fake beach in Singapore that boasted views of cargo ships in the short distance was just not an enticing option. I’m not really sure what I can highlight as positive or fun in Sentosa because I simply wasn’t impressed. In addition, I can’t see the mission in behind the establishment. It was neither relaxing, nor interesting nor fun. In the end, G and I left with a very “meh” feeling about it and the only reason I’d recommend going would be to hear other perspectives on it.

      Call me shallow, wickedly short sighted and 100% wrong when it comes to Sentosa Island but I much rather enjoyed Singapore itself in comparison. Though of course there’s still a part of me that is highly suspicious of how orderly everything is, in the end Singapore is a great destination for nature lovers and shoppers alike. Orchard Road is the main commercial street and is lined with numerous stores, high end, bargain and everything in between. Our favorite destination was Cold Stone Creamery, where G was introduced to the concept of mixing your own ice cream. Going to Orchard Road is a little indescribable because I really can’t find a comparison. How many places can you think of with 22 malls located on the same street??!! After going into two malls, we were pretty much over the mall scene and opted to focus on the other major city sites instead.

      Singapore Flyer and the views it offers:

      View of the city from the Flyer.

      View of the harbor from the Flyer.

      View of the harbor from the Flyer.

      Marina Bay Sands Skypark, though we didn’t actually go, we did enjoy the view!

      Marina Bay Sands Hotel

      What kills me about the Marina Bay Sands Hotel is, who thought it would be a charming idea to build three towers and place a large boat on top of them? Who was the intended target audience? Who thought of this and namely, who approved it? In short, what’s the point? These were questions that I wondered about when sitting in the park taking in this view from across the water. Yeah, it looks cool … but, I insist… a boat on top of towers?

      On the other hand, our visit to the Singapore Botanic Gardens was AMAZING and for someone like G who brakes for plants and all things green, it was a short trip to heaven.

      Orchids from the Orchid garden.

      We of course did many more things, like ride the hop-on hop-off city tours and visit the Singapore Zoo (amazing!!!) but again, I’m no travel blogger.

      In the end, Singapore was an interesting country to visit and if given the chance, I’d probably go back. But one need not stay longer than one week because, after all, how much more time do you really need in a city state that measures 260+ square miles?

      This trip came about in the beginning of 2011 and it was our intention to do one last BIG trip, one that we figured would be very hard to do in the future if and when we had kids. Not so much because of Asia itself but because of the distance one needs to travel just to ARRIVE in any Asian country (believe me the air travel was loooooong). Neither of us had ever been to the countries we visited and it was, for us, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Was it relaxing? Not in the least. Maybe because I was in my first few months of pregnancy, but it was tiring mostly because our main mode of transportation was our own two feet. Plus hot, humid weather is not the best way to enjoy the preggo state of being, no matter what month you’re in. But I was a trooper (I believe) and beyond requesting a rest stop every so often (and an occasional nap thrown in), I marched on alongside my husband, like a champ. Was it relaxing? No, not at all.

      But was it amazing to see, learn and witness all that we did? Abso-fucking-lutely.

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August 20, 2011
by Andrea
3 Comments

Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia – Oh my!

If there’s something my blog ISN’T is a travel blog. It’s not because I haven’t – or don’t – travel, but because I feel you really need to have a special talent to write about such an experience. Traveling is three-dimensional, it’s taste-touch-feel and many times I wonder if I would have the ability to accurately describe travel experiences and the rich adventures that are related to it. I just feel that, personally, I’d repeatedly use the words “awesome” or “amazing” or “unreal.” Yes, there is always the option of pictures and in times past, I’ve very well incorporated them in my blog posts pertaining to travel in the past. So truly, trust me when I tell you that I’m not doing you any favors when writing about places visited and sights I’ve seen. I leave that to the experts (and there are many, many far more interesting experts in the blogging world today.)

Having said that, I WILL be breaking my own rules in exactly two months. I, of course, guarantee the overuse of rudimentary words such as “weird,” “stoked,” “amazing,” and “awesome,” and despite this, the main reason I want to write about it is because I want to be able to go back and REMEMBER as much as I can!

Married muffins during our mini-moon in NYC last year.

Here’s the story: when G and I got married last year, I was in the middle of school (post-grad) and we had literally ZERO time for a real honeymoon. Seriously, I had started school on a Tuesday, the following Saturday we were getting married, and the following Tuesday night (a week after starting classes) we took a few days off to travel to New York City. It wasn’t exotic, it wasn’t relaxing and it wasn’t by any means the type of honeymoon one imagines with the mere mention of the word “honeymoon.” It served its purpose though and to be honest, it was the first time we had been back to NYC – as a couple – since we first met, so it did mean a lot to us to be able to go back to the city where we first met so many years ago (even if the romance didn’t bloom at that time).  It was also the first time I had gone back since moving to Chile and it meant the WORLD to me to be able to see some of my best friends. Our mini-moon actually looked a lot like a mini-move to lovely Manhattan, complete with our (temporary) apartment in the Upper West Side, dinners with friends, date nights over cocktails, strolls through Central Park, visits to Whole Foods and, of course, tummy-filling brunches whenever possible. Yeah, actually now that I’m thinking about it, this mini-moon was pretty f*cking kick ass and though it was short, it was an awesome trip (see? Overuse #1 of the word).

However, said awesomeness (overuse #2) a honeymoon does not make. Yes, we’re lucky to have gone ANYWHERE and even more so, lucky to have had the chance to go to such an amazing city (arguably the center of the universe, really) and spend five days chillin’ like city villains. But the thorn in our side has, since the wedding, forever been that we didn’t really want a wedding and we don’t really know why it went down the way it did. In fact, though it was cool and we were happy to share, in the end G and I are much simpler creatures when it comes down to it and we’ve decided that a far better way to have spent that money would have been with a crazy, money-is-no-object, trip somewhere. Since we didn’t do this and we instead gave into peer pressure (provoked and self-induced) we’ve always looked back on our wedding hoopla with a wrinkle in our noses.

ALL OF THIS CHANGES IN ABOUT TWO MONTHS, PEOPLE.

While we can’t change the fact that we did do the wedding hoopla and we can’t change the fact that we didn’t take a “real” honeymoon to some exotic place immediately following the wedding (though, seriously, who cares?) and really, there’s not much we can do about either, after almost a year and a half post-wedding, we decided to embark on the adventure of a lifetime (so far) with regards to travel: we’re off to Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia.

Yeah, I said it.

Are we excited? Is Obi-Wan Kenobi a legendary Jedi Master? YES HE IS!!!!

This trip planning was no easy feat. We actually visited two different travel agencies and explained to both companies what we wanted and though they took down our information, wish-lists, emails and numbers, neither of the two agencies called us back (Chilean customer service at its best – I guess there was zero interest in the travel agency fee). So what other option did we have besides researching, comparing and booking every aspect of our trip ourselves? And though it sounds exotic and awesome (overuse #3), when we first sat down to plan our Southeast Asian itinerary, we were at a loss. I mean, there were so many places we wanted to visit and we knew that this trip would seriously be a once-in-a-lifetime chance (seriously speaking when will we EVER have the chance, time, resources, etc to do this again in the future? Who knows?!) – the pressure was on. We were determined to research as much as we could so that we could make the most informed decisions possible regarding places we wanted to visit.

So we sat down … where DID we want go? Where in the world did we ache to visit? What place (or places) were always tucked away in the back of our minds, filed under “SOMEDAY?”

Thailand was a no-brainer for us. We’re obsessed with Thai food, we’re equal parts scared and excited to visit the seedy underbelly of Bangkok (which we imagine is in all parts of the city), and in general, we’re quite eager to learn about the culture. And since we were already thinking Thailand the next no-brainer was, of course, the lovely, infamous and perhaps touristy beaches of this fascinating country. And though we’re fully aware that we aren’t going to find quiet, serene, untouched-by-humanity beaches, who can resist wanting to visit this?:

Photo courtesy of jacobssalon - Flickr photostream

Next on the list was a suggestion from G – Kuala Lumpur. And really, though it’s probably a city, full of sophistication, bustle and smog, as any other city in the world can be, again, I ask you again, who can resist visiting this?:

Image courtesty of haleyweb - Flickr photostream

The final destination changed from one month to the next during these past few months of planning. When all of this hoopla started, we were 100% sure we wanted to visit Tokyo as well. Then we decided Tokyo was too far so we contemplated Singapore and for a few months, this was a confirmed destination. Then we decided that if we were going to travel the distance, we should go to a far more cultural place than Singapore (not that this country itself isn’t cultural but, in the end, we were talking yet another city.) So we contemplated Vietnam because I’m obsessed with the idea of spending a night on a Junk, cruising along Halong Bay (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) – call me crazy:

Images of Halong Bay Cruises 365 (website)



That was then discarded due to limited time and distance involved. I’m a little sad about that because, truly, ever since I read an article on Vietnam and its development post-war, I’ve been enchanted by this lush, green country and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance to visit it. But the options are limitless and I’m not about to convey even an ounce of discontent because the destination that has officially been decided on, booked and all, is Siem Reap, Cambodia. We’ll be there a couple of days but it’s enough time to visit the main attraction (which I’m personally most excited about):

Angkor Wat

Post-trip all of the images above (of the places we’ll be visiting, of course) will be replaced by my own personal pictures. At least that’s the idea though I doubt my pictures will be half as lustrous or profesh-looking as these. I don’t think my post (or posts – who knows?) about the trip will be the most influential, mind-blowing travel writing you’ll ever encounter but I’ll be more than happy to share it, especially because, as I mentioned, I will look back on it fondly. I know what it’s taken for us to finally get here and all that was involved. I’m so thankful-slash-excited-slash-overwhelmed (but in a good way) about this trip, it’s nuts. I can hardly believe it’s an opportunity that’s awaiting us. So much so, I had to write about it BEFORE the actual trip, just to begin believing it.

But I still kinda don’t believe it’s coming up … somebody pinch me!

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August 14, 2011
by Andrea
7 Comments

Cheers

Here’s my problem recently … in fact it’s been a problem for a while now and I suspect it’s a deeper rooted problem than I care to consider: the move to Chile has propelled me into adulthood.

When I moved here, I embarked on a whirlwind of adult themes – living with a significant other, having a household with a significant other (complete with a shared checking account), getting a dog with a significant other, getting married, and finally, being a stepmother to significant other’s children. Prior to all of this, I was a single gal living in the San Francisco Bay Area, traveling a heap for work and going out with my friends whenever the hell I pleased. No one to take into account besides myself and living the single life in my fabulous little apartment in the sunny outskirts of San Francisco. I traded all this in for the sake of love and moved to the bottom of the Earth to… become an adult.

The thing is, adulthood is fucking lonely. I’m nostalgic more than I care to recall and I miss my former life more than I care to admit. Then I consider that perhaps adulthood, introduced firsthand while living in a foreign country, is made far worse by the fact that I have to “learn the ropes” in this new country and adjust to society and culture here. What does that mean? Personally, for me, it means being the odd-man out 24-7. Combine this with “adult” responsibilities like planning for retirement, saving, planning kids, paying bills, saving for a future home, and seriously I just want to curl up in a ball and fall asleep next to my dog. All of it seems dry, all of it seems boring and ALL OF IT makes me miss my friends back home more than I can possibly express in one post.

Here’s the thing: while most of life is happening around me and I try to navigate my own life in the best, most successful way possible, inside, I’m like Peter Pan. I literally am the kid that never wants to grow up. Outside I’m 34 years old; inside I’m 24. In fact, call me crazy, but I still recall – FONDLY, mind you – the ’80′s Toys R Us commercial:


Indeed, all I want in life is to continue being a Toys R Us kid.

But those days are long gone and I’m not a Toys R Us kid. I’m not even a Falabella kid.

I guess what really makes adulthood a fucking drag right about now is this: I’ve had a really hard time making significant connections with people I’ve met here in Chile. Yeah, I LIKE some people I’ve met and think they are, in essence, pretty cool people, but I’d say it’s a far cry from actually connecting with said people. Sure, there are all kinds of variables, the most obvious one being my demanding job that pretty much sucks my will to do anything else besides come home and crash most of the time. But there are all kinds of other variables to consider too: age, priorities, responsibilities, work, time and space, just to name a few.

I know that my best friends back home are also tackling adulthood head on. They’re watching as other friends have children, buy homes, buy second homes, have second children, move up in their careers, etc, etc. Entering adulthood in Chile, for me, has been like starting a new school. I’m alone, I don’t really have any friends, I’m going through changes that feel weird and awkward and it seems everyone else is either 1) not going through the same changes or 2) breezing through said changes. In fact, I attended Catholic school for a hefty amount of time and when I started 8th grade in a public school in a new city, for the first time ever, I recall feeling a similar sentiment.

At times like these all I want to do is go somewhere where everybody knows my name … yeah I’m recalling the theme song to “Cheers,” but OH MY GOD does it ring true and comforting right about now.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.

[Why yes it does take everything I have and more so living in a foreign country where more often than not, all things seem backwards to me.]
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

[WHY YES IT WOULD!! I could potentially prolong my sanity, I think.]

Wouldn’t you like to get away?

[Yes. Ideally to San Francisco or New York where my best friends are living. Given this, I'm thankful for an upcoming trip to NYC in September.]

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,

[I used to live a life where I frequented places where many people knew me. Now I live the most anonymous life I can fucking conjure up.]
and they’re always glad you came.

[This line is the one that gets me. So many places I know I can walk into right now and KNOW that people will be happy to see me. But, fuck, more importantly, that people will actually GET me. I won't be the odd man out, I may just fucking blend in. That or people will actually know me. Such a far cry from my life in Chile right now.]
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same

Misery loves company? Happiness loves company too, though. I’ll take either one here in Chile, but I’m so missing those connections. ARE people the same here as they are there? Do they have similar troubles? Do they go through the same things?…. Fuck if I know.
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.

[I do!]

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,

[As much so here as there? Probably but then again, what do I  know?]
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

[What does it mean to go where everyone knows your name? Common bonds, that's one. Relatable history, that's another.]

There’s something to be said about surrounding yourself with people who know your history, people who knew you “way back when.”

The most recent example of this:

Text message via Whats App with Amanda Aug 13, 2011

What the hell does all that mean and why should you care?
You shouldn’t care actually. If you do, I’ll call you a crazy stalker.

But what I’ll share with you are simple facts:

1) Amanda is a really, really good friend I met in college . In fact, we lived together our senior year.

2) I used to be the agro friend who had her hair done (highlights and cut) every nine weeks on the dot. I also used to have my eyebrows done on a monthly basis. (An impossible feat here in Chile since, after having lived here 2+ years, finding a decent hairdresser continues to be a Holy Grail-esque quest.)

3) With this personal standard, I took it upon myself to alert all of my friends of their unruly hairs (whether on their heads or faces) whenever said hairs reared their ugly natures. I was what Amanda used to refer to as a “crotchety old aunt.”

Yet despite that annoying trait, this good friend of mine, along with another dear friend, remembered me when they passed by the hair salon where I used to get my hair ‘did back home (said reference to Trio). So much so, that they sent me a text message alerting me to the fact, despite the thousands of miles and the times zones that divide us. To me the idea  of being “where everybody knows [my] name” and to know people are “always glad I came” is something that is embodied in this text message I’ve shared right here on my blog.

I envision the me right now, grappling with being an adult and taking on the adult responsibilities that are coming at me left and right, stepping into the car with my two good friends, hearing them say “Dre!!” (if you ever watched “Cheers” you’d get this reference. If not, then here.) Seriously, I think that’s all I’d need to dust myself off and face the craziness of this new adulthood (in a foreign land.)

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