I think the easiest way to sum up my particular brand of humor is in two words: The Office. Yep, that show is one of my all-time favorites, and I faithfully tune in each week to see how Michael Scott is going to make an idiot out of himself, what pranks Jim will pull on Dwight, etc. I realize not everyone loves this show as much as I do, but personally I think it's hilarious. My sense of humor tends to be more on the subtle, sarcastic side. And I've come to realize that sarcasm isn't perceived as humorous all across the globe. Oh, and another thing... it's HARD to be funny in another language! Am I the only one who thinks this? I hope not.
Apparently, one of the signs that you're becoming really advanced in another language is that you are able to express your sense of humor in that language (or so I've been told). I don't know how well my sarcasm comes across in Spanish - talk about a challenge. Luckily, Diego has a crazy, off-the-wall sense of humor, so I can pretty much say anything crazy and it works. It's still pretty frustrating at times, though. I'm used to making my brother and sister-in-law laugh, and then I go to Chile and you'd think I'd never even been introduced to the concept of a sense of humor. I understand it when Diego or one of his friends make a joke, but I myself have a hard time being funny in Spanish. Or at least, being funny in the way I like to be funny. That's what frustrates me the most, I think. But, I'm learning new things every day, and talking to D is a great way to do it. He teaches me lots of "Chilenismos"... lots of crazy stuff! But it's fun, and I love it. Maybe my sense of humor in Spanish is slowly making its way in. Que bacan, no?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
El Caballero
The last time I was in Santiago was in March. I had been there since a couple of days before New Years 2008, and for the 2 and a half months or so, I stayed with my boyfriend and his family. Not a huge place, but it was good enough for me! They live in Ñuñoa, pretty near the Estadio Nacional, in a little group of gated apartments. I always felt really safe there, and was very glad it in fact was a gated community, with someone at the gate 24-7. One guy in particular was our favorite. I'm not sure exactly how old he was, but he was getting up there in years. He was the sweetest guy ever, though. Always incredibly polite to us, and he would always open the gate for us and call Diego "caballero." A couple of times he didn't get back to the gate quick enough to open it for us, and he always apologized. Just a genuinely nice guy. Not everyone that worked at the gate was like that - not all of them would even speak to us, let alone with a smile and a kind word. I always told D, "One day I want to make a cake or something for that guy, he's just so nice."
Sadly, I never got to do that... I didn't do it before I left Chile, and now I can't. Last night, when talking to D on the phone, he told me that this guy had apparently been sick for awhile and had passed away yesterday. I have to admit that I was shocked, and saddened, by the news. This guy may not have played a huge role in my life, but he still did make an impact. He reminded me that the world still has room for kind people like him. I find myself wondering if he had family or many friends there. I find myself missing Chile more and more each day, and missing my day-to-day life there that I experienced, that this guy was a part of. I miss simple things like walking to Lider with D to get a snack for that night, or the time we rode ONE bike there, and I thought I might die.
Now I'm kind of off on a tangent of random memories in Chile, but while we're on that, I'll share one more before I head out. To set the stage for this, I have to tell you that in 1996, when I was 13 years old, Hurricane Fran blew through North Carolina. I was living in Wake Forest at the time, and though Fran was NOTHING compared to Hurricane Katrina, it was still frightening to my little 13-year-old self, especially since my dad was out of town on business that week. Hearing trees fall on my house wasn't my ideal way to spend a night. Anyway, one of those trees happened to fall on our shed in the backyard, totally mangling my pink bicycle. That made me sad, as I had spent many happy hours riding that bike up and down the hills in my neighborhood. And for whatever reason, I didn't get another bike after that. In fact, I never rode a bike again.
Until... flash forward to 11 years later. City: Santiago, Chile. Date: February 2008. Yep, that's right. This February was the first time in 11 years that I had ridden a bike. And let me tell you, I was scared out of my wits that I wouldn't remember how to ride one. That I'd fall on my face and make an idiot out of myself, or, worse, break something! But that old saying, "it's like riding a bike..." is true. I got on tentatively, my heart pounding in my chest... I started pedaling... and there was no going back. And miraculously, I didn't fall. It was the greatest feeling in the world, pedaling as hard as I could, with the Andes looming in front of me, the wind in my face, and D pedaling right beside me. So yeah, I miss those moments a lot. But, as my mom says, "Lord willing and the creek don't rise", I'll be back in Santiago soon.
Sadly, I never got to do that... I didn't do it before I left Chile, and now I can't. Last night, when talking to D on the phone, he told me that this guy had apparently been sick for awhile and had passed away yesterday. I have to admit that I was shocked, and saddened, by the news. This guy may not have played a huge role in my life, but he still did make an impact. He reminded me that the world still has room for kind people like him. I find myself wondering if he had family or many friends there. I find myself missing Chile more and more each day, and missing my day-to-day life there that I experienced, that this guy was a part of. I miss simple things like walking to Lider with D to get a snack for that night, or the time we rode ONE bike there, and I thought I might die.
Now I'm kind of off on a tangent of random memories in Chile, but while we're on that, I'll share one more before I head out. To set the stage for this, I have to tell you that in 1996, when I was 13 years old, Hurricane Fran blew through North Carolina. I was living in Wake Forest at the time, and though Fran was NOTHING compared to Hurricane Katrina, it was still frightening to my little 13-year-old self, especially since my dad was out of town on business that week. Hearing trees fall on my house wasn't my ideal way to spend a night. Anyway, one of those trees happened to fall on our shed in the backyard, totally mangling my pink bicycle. That made me sad, as I had spent many happy hours riding that bike up and down the hills in my neighborhood. And for whatever reason, I didn't get another bike after that. In fact, I never rode a bike again.
Until... flash forward to 11 years later. City: Santiago, Chile. Date: February 2008. Yep, that's right. This February was the first time in 11 years that I had ridden a bike. And let me tell you, I was scared out of my wits that I wouldn't remember how to ride one. That I'd fall on my face and make an idiot out of myself, or, worse, break something! But that old saying, "it's like riding a bike..." is true. I got on tentatively, my heart pounding in my chest... I started pedaling... and there was no going back. And miraculously, I didn't fall. It was the greatest feeling in the world, pedaling as hard as I could, with the Andes looming in front of me, the wind in my face, and D pedaling right beside me. So yeah, I miss those moments a lot. But, as my mom says, "Lord willing and the creek don't rise", I'll be back in Santiago soon.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
"Learn our language or leave!"
I live in the South - North Carolina, to be specific. And Hispanics are the fastest-growing population group in this state right now, or so I've heard at least. Personally, I think it's kind of cool - I mean, being in the U.S. right now, I'm not surrounded by Spanish all day long like I was in Chile, so it's neat to be able to meet new friends that are native Spanish speakers, with whom I can practice the language. I talk to Diego almost every day, but unfortunately, a lot of that is done on Windows Messenger, so... I'm able to practice reading and typing Spanish, but speaking it... not so much.
Anyway, being that I live in a fairly small town in N.C., I'm basically in a pocket of conservatism. Which is not a bad thing, in and of itself. But when it comes to the immigration issue, there are a lot of people here who would rather turn away and pretend it's not happening - or even worse. And a lot of the people who are like this are people in my parents' generation. They're used to being around people who look like them, talk like them, etc. So basically, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard, "Learn English or go home!", I could retire to a mansion in Malibu right now. Here's the thing: I understand their gripe, on the surface level. They're citizens of the U.S., they're native English speakers, and they get frustrated when they go to a restaurant or what have you, and can't understand what the person working there is saying. So they proclaim to anyone who'll listen, "They need to learn our language, we speak ENGLISH here in America!"
Ok, point taken. But what they don't bother to do is listen to the other side. Look, a lot of people immigrate to this country looking to provide a better life for their family. And what needs to be understood is that learning another language is not easy. Now, that sounds logical, doesn't it? But to people who have never tried to become fluent in another language, they just don't get it. Here's my personal experience, as a native English speaker trying to learn and become fluent in Spanish. I took 3 years of Spanish in high school. I took one semester in college. I spent 2 months in Spain. I spent a total of 7 months in Chile. Am I fluent, after all this? No. Advanced maybe, but not yet fluent. And that's the thing - the BEST, quickest, most efficient way to become fluent in another language is to be immersed in that language, i.e. spend a significant amount of time in a country that speaks that language. Sound familiar? So yes, I'm sure there are Hispanics who immigrate here and for whatever reason don't care enough to make that effort to learn the language (although I'd argue they are the minority). But there are also a lot of Hispanics who have immigrated here knowing some English, but still working on becoming fluent. And the best way is to be here, in this country, immersed in our language. So to my co-workers: you can't judge these people until you've walked a mile in their shoes, and I bet most of you haven't. You have no way of knowing which of them are people who aren't making the effort to learn, and which are busting their butts to learn this language. Meanwhile, what would you have them do? Remain in their countries, earning a wage below the poverty line, and taking English classes every day for years upon years to try to learn? A lot of them simply don't have that time, and it would be crazy to ask that anyway, when they could come here and immerse themselves in this language and learn it, REALLY learn it.
Alright, I'm going to climb down off my soapbox now. This is actually pretty cathartic, to write about this topic, because it's one I've been thinking about for awhile now. I guess having a boyfriend who speaks a different language than me has made me more sensitive to this topic, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I just get tired sometimes of living where I do, and hearing these comments all the time. What do these people who make those comments want, isolationism? Personally, I think it's great to embrace people of different cultures and languages. Variety is the spice of life, right?
Anyway, being that I live in a fairly small town in N.C., I'm basically in a pocket of conservatism. Which is not a bad thing, in and of itself. But when it comes to the immigration issue, there are a lot of people here who would rather turn away and pretend it's not happening - or even worse. And a lot of the people who are like this are people in my parents' generation. They're used to being around people who look like them, talk like them, etc. So basically, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard, "Learn English or go home!", I could retire to a mansion in Malibu right now. Here's the thing: I understand their gripe, on the surface level. They're citizens of the U.S., they're native English speakers, and they get frustrated when they go to a restaurant or what have you, and can't understand what the person working there is saying. So they proclaim to anyone who'll listen, "They need to learn our language, we speak ENGLISH here in America!"
Ok, point taken. But what they don't bother to do is listen to the other side. Look, a lot of people immigrate to this country looking to provide a better life for their family. And what needs to be understood is that learning another language is not easy. Now, that sounds logical, doesn't it? But to people who have never tried to become fluent in another language, they just don't get it. Here's my personal experience, as a native English speaker trying to learn and become fluent in Spanish. I took 3 years of Spanish in high school. I took one semester in college. I spent 2 months in Spain. I spent a total of 7 months in Chile. Am I fluent, after all this? No. Advanced maybe, but not yet fluent. And that's the thing - the BEST, quickest, most efficient way to become fluent in another language is to be immersed in that language, i.e. spend a significant amount of time in a country that speaks that language. Sound familiar? So yes, I'm sure there are Hispanics who immigrate here and for whatever reason don't care enough to make that effort to learn the language (although I'd argue they are the minority). But there are also a lot of Hispanics who have immigrated here knowing some English, but still working on becoming fluent. And the best way is to be here, in this country, immersed in our language. So to my co-workers: you can't judge these people until you've walked a mile in their shoes, and I bet most of you haven't. You have no way of knowing which of them are people who aren't making the effort to learn, and which are busting their butts to learn this language. Meanwhile, what would you have them do? Remain in their countries, earning a wage below the poverty line, and taking English classes every day for years upon years to try to learn? A lot of them simply don't have that time, and it would be crazy to ask that anyway, when they could come here and immerse themselves in this language and learn it, REALLY learn it.
Alright, I'm going to climb down off my soapbox now. This is actually pretty cathartic, to write about this topic, because it's one I've been thinking about for awhile now. I guess having a boyfriend who speaks a different language than me has made me more sensitive to this topic, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I just get tired sometimes of living where I do, and hearing these comments all the time. What do these people who make those comments want, isolationism? Personally, I think it's great to embrace people of different cultures and languages. Variety is the spice of life, right?
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
La Subasta
Alright, this is my first post (obviously) on this new blog, and unfortunately since it's already pretty late I don't have time in this post to go into a lot of background. We'll save that for another day. But long story short, I'm a gringa who's dating a Chilean. Sadly, we're doing the whole long-distance relationship thing right now... which gets really crazy considering the "long distance" in this case is 5000 miles. Yes, we do actually have plans to be on the same continent in the near future. I'm in the U.S. working for several more months, my boyfriend Diego is planning to come visit in July, and then I'm hoping to move back to Chile a couple of months after that. For how long, I'm not sure, but maybe a couple of years, before we both move back to the U.S. Wow, typing that out, it sounds kind of confusing, but trust me, we actually do have a plan! Anyway, I keep coming across blogs by U.S. girls dating or married to Chilean guys, and it's been really interesting reading about their experiences! I've learned a lot, and I think it would be nice to meet some of them when I do move back to Chile, as I'm sure I'll need some good gringa friends for support! :)
Anyway, on to the subject of this post... Diego is being auctioned off tomorrow! That's right, auctioned off. He's part of a college/young adult ministry group in Santiago, and tomorrow they're doing a chicos/chicas date auction ("subasta") to raise money for a mission trip. So, my first reaction upon hearing this tonight from D was.... ummmmm, so you're telling me some girl is going to be bidding for a chance to go out with you? WHAT?! But then I calmed down and realized that a) it's to raise money, b) I trust my boyfriend, c) it's really kind of a joke anyway, and d) he'll be auctioned off with his brother... so, eh, maybe it's not so bad. That's right, it's a package deal ;) He and his brother are in a band, and they're commonly just referred to as Los Hermanos Sí, so one of the things being auctioned off is an outing with LHS... this made me laugh, I have to admit. And D assured me that it probably won't involve much more than a trip to Bravissimo and boom, done. So it's all good. I really do trust my boyfriend, I promise. It's the Chilenas that I don't trust as much. No offense, but the way male/female relationships work in Chile is a lot different from the U.S. Here in the U.S., if a guy tells a girl he has a girlfriend, she'll usually back off (well, ideally). In Chile, telling a girl you are taken means nothing. Basically, you just wasted 3 seconds of your time saying that. So, it doesn't make me really comfortable knowing that some girls are going to be bidding on an outing with my boyfriend, mainly because of that fact. And, in my opinion, he's pretty cute! Anyway, I just thought the whole auction thing was kind of funny. He's supposed to tell me tomorrow night which girl wins. ;)
Anyway, on to the subject of this post... Diego is being auctioned off tomorrow! That's right, auctioned off. He's part of a college/young adult ministry group in Santiago, and tomorrow they're doing a chicos/chicas date auction ("subasta") to raise money for a mission trip. So, my first reaction upon hearing this tonight from D was.... ummmmm, so you're telling me some girl is going to be bidding for a chance to go out with you? WHAT?! But then I calmed down and realized that a) it's to raise money, b) I trust my boyfriend, c) it's really kind of a joke anyway, and d) he'll be auctioned off with his brother... so, eh, maybe it's not so bad. That's right, it's a package deal ;) He and his brother are in a band, and they're commonly just referred to as Los Hermanos Sí, so one of the things being auctioned off is an outing with LHS... this made me laugh, I have to admit. And D assured me that it probably won't involve much more than a trip to Bravissimo and boom, done. So it's all good. I really do trust my boyfriend, I promise. It's the Chilenas that I don't trust as much. No offense, but the way male/female relationships work in Chile is a lot different from the U.S. Here in the U.S., if a guy tells a girl he has a girlfriend, she'll usually back off (well, ideally). In Chile, telling a girl you are taken means nothing. Basically, you just wasted 3 seconds of your time saying that. So, it doesn't make me really comfortable knowing that some girls are going to be bidding on an outing with my boyfriend, mainly because of that fact. And, in my opinion, he's pretty cute! Anyway, I just thought the whole auction thing was kind of funny. He's supposed to tell me tomorrow night which girl wins. ;)
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