El Tabo, el mar, y mi corazon

So one thing that has been completely, totally, 100% confirmed is that I love the sea.

Middle Chile (the part in which I live, and the part in which we traveled last weekend) is cold right now. Again, a reminder: it is late autumn these days here (making it really hard for me to cognize 90+ degrees back home in Los Estados Unidos). It feels especially cold because, just like Mexico, there is no centralized heating ANYWHERE. It’s not that the temperatures are that low per se (it never drops to freezing), it’s just that the humidly chilly and overcast 50 degrees outdoor times translate into humid, 45 degrees, nose-dripping, dark indoor times. A confession: my favorite part of my days in the city right now is being squished into a metro train during rush hour on my way to my volunteer position at a school for the blind. Being completely bereft of personal space and essentially spooning strangers on the metro is the ONLY time I ever feel close to warm and toastified. Um, that’s kind of pathetic.

Let’s get back to sea. We traveled to a small, sand/dirt road, beach town called Tabo last weekend because our Chilean friend has a getaway cabin there. He invited a group of us expats, plus another Chilean friend of ours to accompany him and his family. So very, very nice of them. We’re so lucky. So, like, it is autumn, it is cold (it was super-cold in the cabin), it was sometimes raining, but that gorgeous Pacific Ocean with its big waves crashing into the rocky shoreline was totally and perfectly palliative. The best part? The added peace and calm due to it being the low season. The beaches were deserted, making the walks and exploration that much more serene.

The old, massive cabin (it had AT LEAST eight beds)! It was rustic, barebones, and perfect:

Rocky coastline...

...mixed with strange, unique, and lush vegetation:

Close-up, the green stuff looke like this (succulent, aloe-style plantlife):

This patch was rocking its autumn colors:

We took a day trip to the port town of San Antonio (where we saw those amazing sea lions):

Pelicans scrambling for fish guts thrown into the water by fish-cleaners at the market:

Random Photos: This ain't Seaworld; this is real-life!

We spent the weekend at a Chilean friend's beach house. We had a wonderful time (even with the chilly autumn weather). Stay tuned for pictures and words about our trip. But for now, I want to share these photos of wild sea lions we saw. It was an amazing, unexpected experience!

Mote con Huesillos: Chile's Drink(?), Snack(?) and/or Dessert(?)

Chile prides itself on its local cuisine. Chileans love to describe their local dishes to foreigners willing to listen. In turn, they tend to get excited whilst conducting these explanations. I have witnessed first-hand Chileans delivering applause and shouts of “mmm, que rrrrrrrrico!” during said descriptions given by others. The excitement gets to the point where it seems that they’re all going to run from the conversation to their home and immediately start concocting their prized Chilean specialties.

Because the vast majority of the native dishes involve meat sauce, meat bits, meat meat meat, Matt and I will not be partaking in much of it. Besides, after learning about their adoration of the hot dog, I am taking the locals' preferences with a grain of salt. Or, shall I say with a grain of wheat?

I’ve been meaning to try Mote con Huesillos practically since we landed. During the summer, las calles were full of street vendors offering this drink(?) snack(?) and/or dessert(?). Truth is, for a while, I had been a little scared to try it. See picture below. It’s intense, no? But after enduring the big earthquake, I felt empowered to conquer my HUGE fears, including taste-testing Mote con Huesillos.

So what is this drink(?) snack(?) and/or dessert(?), right?! Well, mote, the little bits at the bottom of the cup, are wheat berries. Wheat berries are not commonly used or consumed in the U.S., but Matt and I have been cooking vegetarian dishes with them for a while. Their consistency is similar to brown rice, soft but a little chewy. Huesillos are dried peaches. They drop a few whole (pits included) huesillos in every cup (the big, wrinkled floating thing in the photo above). The sugared liquid is apparently made from dried peach juice. A spoon is used to imbibe the mixture.

The verdict? This drink(?) snack(?) and/or dessert(?) is obviously very unique. Matt made the genius observation that the seemingly familiar liquid was similar to canned fruit cocktail syrup. A spoonful of wheat berries paired with the liquid did a good job of cutting the latter's cloying heaviness. My favorite part was the peaches! They were cold, somewhat rehydrated from the liquid, tender, and tasty. All in all, I was happy we tried the drink(?) snack(?) and/or dessert(?), but we won’t probably be trying it again. I can, however, confirm that Mote con Huesillos is better than hot dogs.

Vocabulary Word of the Week: Taco

“C’mon, Christine! We know what a taco is! That’s just insulting!”

Yeah, I know, when we Americans (and Mexicans) think of a taco, we think of all that is good in the world. A taco is basically perfection. They can consist of many different kinds of ingredients but tacos always consist of delicious. Here’s an example of some tacos we often made in Mexico:



















BUT, and this is the kicker, when you mention a taco in Chile, chances are the Chilean you’re talking to will have steam coming out of their ears, their blood pressure will noticeably rise, and bad words will come spewing out of their month. Like Mexico, tacos are omnipresent in Chile. But unlike Mexico, this is a taco here:















A traffic jam! It took us a while to realize this. So, like, when the newscasters would talk about "super-tacos" being all the over city, the Pavlovian response would kick in and our salivary glands would get into a tizzy, and we’d be stricken with the burning desire to hop a bus and search for these super-tacos. But alas, we realized that if we’d try to hop a bus, we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, because we’d be stuck in a massive, unmoving traffic jam (i.e. super-taco).

Buenos Aires is a Million Things

We are back from a whirlwind trip to Latin America's cultural epicenter. My sore legs and blistered feet are proof that we wasted no time trying to see as much as we could. Buenos Aires is very lovable. I went into this little trip a bit skeptical, because I'm a contrarian like that. Everybody ADORES Buenos Aires, and it's the one place that people have been in South America, so I felt like it had enough affection; it didn't need mine. But the truth is, I did kind of really like it. I mean, people of all different stripes love the tourist towns of NYC and London (myself included), and this is just another one to fit into that category.

Buenos Aires is full of different neighborhoods with very different types of dwellers, distinct architecture, and varied points of interest. It’s strange, though, because last night, I asked Matt, “What was your favorite neighborhood in BsAs?” He couldn’t answer; or rather, he didn’t have an answer—and the funny thing is, neither did I. All of the neighborhoods had serious drawbacks. Of course, since time was a factor, we spent our precious few days in those parts of town that seemed to have a lot to offer for travelers in town for only a few days. That said, Palermo is too gentrified and too expat-ish. Recoleta is too rich and snooty. The microcenter is too nuts and chaotic. La Boca is too dangerous (with a section that just sickeningly touristy). Puerto Madero is too tacky and nouveau-riche (anyone want to go to Hooters?!). San Telmo seemed to be trying too hard to be the next Palermo. There were too many seemingly ignored and forgotten about inhabitants of shanty-towns.

So, what did I love about it?! Oh, I guess I loved it holistically. And of course, there were all the little things here and there. The people there seem to be very appreciative of the arts, as am I. In addition, porteños are often warm, friendly, and helpful. The Italian food is amazing; we had the most amazing homemade gnocchi at a tiny little Italian restaurant. The vegetarian options is aplenty. The Subte (short for subterraneo), their subway system, smells exactly like New York’s. There is something about that that warms my heart. There are just endless blocks of five- to eight-story walls of buildings, filled with people living life. I love that. I love city life. This is a place with a lot of city life.

Buenos Aires is a livable place for the non-faint-of-heart. It’s loud, polluted, and busy, but at the same time, the people seem to enjoy life at an often laid-back and friendly pace. I like the contradiction. I’d be happy to be there for several months, to get to know the less tourist trodden neighborhoods and to immerse myself more into all the city has to offer, especially with regards to art. I think I'd fall in love with the place.

Okay, now for loads of pictures.

Casa Rosada (the Presidential Palace). The back of this building is where Evita delivered speeches (and more importantly, of course, where Madonna sang, "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina"):














The tile floor of the main cathedral:













Ornate house of congress:
















La Boca:

































Caminito (the overly-touristy part of La Boca):





























Recoleta (Parisian-style, fancy pants neighborhood):



















A beautiful art-nouveau grave at the very exclusive Recoleta cemetary (where Evita is buried):

In the Recoleta cemetary, as is often the case in Latin America, if you don't pay your rent, your plot is not kept up or at worst, destroyed. There are lots of abandoned, cob-webbed plots. This unkempt one is beautiful, though:

Palermo:

So, this was one of the best desserts I've ever eaten. It's called an alfajor. This type of cookie sandwich is nothing new to me (quite common in these parts) but this specific one was perfection. The two cookies are made with a lot of corn starch, making them strong, dry, and a little crumbly.. In the middle, sticking the two cookies together, is heavenly dulce de leche (caramelized evaporated milk). The d-d-l in this one seemed to contain an almond/orgeat liqueur (making it all the more scrumptious). And to finish it, this alfajor was dipped in lovely bittersweet chocolate and sprinkled with chopped almonds. It was just amazing (especially when paired with my beloved double shot of espresso):
















San Telmo:

Montserrat (the neighborhood in which we stayed):