Date Night

Anyone with kids will tell you that it becomes infinitely harder to go out alone as a couple. I know there are couples who make date night a sacred, scheduled part of their lives. Hats off to them because it isn't easy. I think most of us, however, struggle with it. It is not that we don't recognize the importance, it is just that there are so many factors that have to be considered, it can be overwhelming.

Who is going to take care of the kids is the biggest obstacle. We thought that would be a little easier to arrange here, but that hasn't necessarily been the case. In the almost 5 months (ah!) that we have been here, we have been out alone exactly thrice... for birthday celebrations, on days that my FIL happened to be home (which is rare). It is not just a matter of who stays with the kids, it has a lot to do with what time-frame it involves, what the "baby-sitter" will be expected to do (bedtime, meals, diapers) because those details help determine who you can choose to baby-sit.

There are economic factors too. If a family member isn't an option as a baby-sitter, you have to pay one. Which means you have to consider all of the above, plus adding babysitter fees to the cost of the evening out. And really, are you going to look for the cheapest babysitter to take care of your offspring?

There is also the fact that no matter what you do on your night out, no matter how late you come home, you get up at dawn with the kids anyway. (ok, at this point it isn't dawn anymore, but it feels pretty early after a night out.)

This week, I planned a night out with the hubs. I called an aunt that the kids adore. She and her daughter agreed to take them for the night (they slept over). I told my husband what to wear and what we needed to bring. But the rest was a secret.

So last night this is what I surprised him with:



We got on horses at dusk and rode up into the foothills of the Andes.



As it got darker, we saw the (almost) full moon rising above the mountains. When we got to our destination, a little over an hour later, there was a fire waiting for us and a breathtaking view.



Our guide and her Huaso (Chilean cowboy) helpers grilled some sausages and veggies, opened a bottle of pisco sour (what I call the Chilean version of a margarita) and some wine. We sat around the fire, enjoying the view, the sky, the fire, the silence of the mountains. My hubs loved it (he loves fire & mountains) and it was the first time he rode a horse.

It was seriously beautiful! I would do it again in a heartbeat. My only regret is that they started getting us settled on the horses and I didn't have a chance to get out my camera, and once on horseback I didn't dare try to get it out, so I didn't get to capture the beginning part (when it was still light and we were riding up the mountain).



How's THAT for a date night?

Plus, since the kids spent the night at their tia's house, we both got to sleep in until 10:30 (a luxury).

Now, Hubs has to organize the next one (though the bar is set pretty high).

Lost

Me: Did you lose your keys? (he had been borrowing my keys all day)

Father-in-law: (with certainty) No ... (then hesitates)I mean, I don't know where they are, but I don't think they are lost yet.

Clearly lost has a slightly different meaning in some contexts... I mean, if you don't know where they are aren't they lost? Or are they just misplaced, until it is permanent and they are never found?

Ah, keys!

My husband's family is a black hole for keys... if you lend them your keys, always demand them back immediately after the key-task is finished. They laugh at me because I am really anal about getting my keys back, I will come after you, right after you open the door and say: my keys, please. I will hunt you down...

Keys are important here because there are so many to get in and even to get out of a residence. There is a pad-locked gate outdoors to get out to the street. If you don't have a key, you can't get out. There is a barred door and then the front door, which locks when it is shut. (Don't get nervous for me with so many bars, I am not in danger--it is just life here) There is a key to the back sliding bar door that covers the sliding glass door, which also clicks locked when shut. We have locked ourselves out before (Thank you Nico! and another good reason to carry your keys on your person at all times) and had to slide Nico through two of the bars over the front window (thank goodness his head just fit through... next year we won't be so lucky).

When we went to the beach house (which has no bars, by the way, but it does have an alarm), my husband took both sets of keys to the truck... and at one point he realized that we couldn't find either set... for DAYS! How does that happen? I honestly don't understand.

I never lose or misplace keys, like ever. I always know where my keys are, I always put them in the same places or carry them on my person. So it is just bizarre that I live in a house where no one can ever find keys... seriously, like ever. Keys have been an issue as long as I have known my husband. Handy as I am, I am an excellent key-spotter. If you set them down and can't remember where, I'll tell you, because I saw them. My mind registers things like that.

They are also notoriously bad at searching for lost items (that weren't just set down somewhere odd). It's like they just can't fathom where they might be. I keep muttering: "Retrace your steps" and "What were you wearing?"

So I finally did an exhaustive search for the truck keys... and found one set of in a pants- pocket. The other set was found days later in another pants-pocket.

So in a sense, the riddle has been solved, at least for some of the misplacements... pockets is the answer. The keys just stay there and the pants come off.

So curious.

I suggested to my FIL that he look in last night's jacket pocket.

Another key mystery has been solved. The not-lost keys have been found.

Home Alone

It is Sunday afternoon. The house is quiet. I am home alone. My husband and kids are at the beach house. I am headed there Monday evening for two weeks. (I know, my life is so tough, we've been here a few months and now we get a vacation). February is vacation month in Chile, it is warm and sunny and breezy, the city is quieter and more relaxed, the streets are not as congested, and a good percentage of Santiaguinos go to the beach or down to southern provinces.

I stayed behind to get some work done. (I am assuming that when I said "work" my husband didn't imagine that it included blogging, but I needed a break (ahem, from facebook) so here I am.)


Yesterday I got up and went running. This morning I played Pink full blast as I got ready for the day. I have gotten TONS of work and reading done. There is no mess... anywhere. There is no cooking, no dishes, no dirty clothes. I have no obligations.

I mean, I miss them, of course, I miss them

But this is HEAVEN!

I am going to be teaching at a university in March (fall and the school year here start in March). I am excited, but there are moments when I am in an outright panic. I'll be teaching courses for the first time--which involves a boatload of preparation and reading. I am also in charge of a Master's program, which I half laugh about because I feel ridiculously underprepared for such a position. I will be teaching in the MA program and in the undergraduate program.

Plus, they keep asking me to do more. At some point I started worrying about how in the crap I was going to organize my time to get everything done. And then one of the program directors asked me to take another class. I blame it on his accent. I wanted so badly to say no. But he is from Argentina (though he is not one of the infamously arrogant Porteños) and his voice is so smooth and sing-songy and he uses that voseo "Mirá" instead of "Mira". And I couldn't say no...

And I alerted my hubs, that apparently protesting is futile, I cannot say no to an argentino, so he stands forewarned (and he is desperately working on changing his accent-HA!)

Being alone here is funny. Because everyone asks you if you are scared. (to stay home alone, to go running in this neighborhood alone, to walk the two blocks from the subway at night... alone). I think they think I am just clueless to all the dangers lurking in their city. I am not... but sheesh! What am I supposed to do?

I am not really frightened to sleep at home alone, but my first night I woke up in the middle of a night because there was a noise INSIDE my bedroom. I jumped up and there was a random cat that had come in an open window and was roaming around my bedroom. (Eileen is so thrilled that she is not the only one that attracts random cats--though I couldn't find her post where that happened) So now I close a bunch of windows at night.

An account of an account

There are certain things in Chile that are just harder to do… like opening a checking account.

In the U.S. this process is much easier… as I understand pretty much anyone, even children, through their parents, can open a bank account there. I didn’t have any money as a kid, but I opened my first bank account at 18, when I went to college, with a whopping $20. They gave me checks, a debit card, later online access (which wasn’t available when I first opened the account, if that gives you any indication of my age, there were no email accounts at that time either, if some of you young whippersnappers can imagine!)

Now, before anyone says, “Well, no wonder the US is in the financial mess it is” (because someone said that to me already when I mentioned the difference in ease). A checking account has nothing to do with any credit mess or housing bubble: a checking account is a virtual place where you can keep your money and take it out when needed… it is not a line of credit, you can’t take out more than you have (in theory, and at least without a hefty fee and eventually serious consequences), there is generally no benefit of accruing interest. Oh, and it is also almost always free (unless you do your banking somewhere swanky).

In Chile, it is notoriously difficult to get a checking account, and it is even harder for foreigners. You have to make a certain amount of money, you have to show up to two years of pay stubs, sometimes you have to prove you are on a contract. As I understand, checking accounts here often come with a line of credit. There are charges: for maintenance, sometimes for transactions, sometimes if your balance falls below a certain amount, etc.

When I was living here before (10 years ago) it was unthinkable for a foreigner to get a checking account. You just kept your money under the proverbial mattress (ok, there is not exactly a proverb about money under mattresses, and one of my pet peeves is how people use proverbial when there is not a proverb… but I am breaking my own rule and you know what I mean, right? “Under the mattress is some kind of saying… but you don’t necessarily keep it under the mattress, but something to that end.)

Moving on… I find it ridiculous, at this point in my life, to work on a totally cash basis… right? No matter what the context or how much I make or how long I have been working where I work, or what my immigration status is… that I would have to go cash a check for several thousand dollars (or whatever the amount) and carry it home and keep it there… every month, until I meet whatever silly requirements there are to be met. Does that make me sound like some arrogant, indulged, brat with some disproportionate sense of entitlement? Well, whatever… dude, I want to pay my bills online, ok? Call me spoiled!

So I found out about a type of account here that called a RUT account. In Chile, instead of a social security number, you are given a RUT, it is a number you use for everything. I finally have it memorized, after having to tell about 10 people who asked for it “I don’t have it memorized.” The shame won, and I memorized it. So, there is a bank that offers accounts based on your RUT. It is a simple account with no benefits really, but you can electronically deposit your paycheck and you have a debit card and can pay things online and make transfers and toda la we’a (all that crap). So, I thought: “perfect!” But, alas (of course) it was not to be… I went to open a RUT account and was told that since my residency visa is temporary (for the first year) I was not eligible to open one.

So, since then, half the world has said: “I am certain you can open a RUT account with a temporary visa… so and so did”

Well, while I am sure that is true, I couldn’t... I am not going to try again (and yes, I did try at an “uptown” branch) You see, I am one of those rancorous people: I hold a grudge! Banco de Estado didn’t let me open a cuenta RUT, so they will never get my millions! (I may one day eat my words, but I feel VERY strongly about it now ;-)

No, but seriously, I was really annoyed! Who cares if my visa is as a temporary resident? I moved here permanently. And it is an account with NO benefits and NO risks (you can’t take out more than you have in it). Seriously, a girl of 12 or a boy of 14 (why the difference? I have no idea) with no regular income can open one, but I can’t!

So, I bypassed the system…

All Chileans and all foreigners living here will tell you that you can do almost anything if you have a “pituto” (pee-TU-toh) which is what you might call “an inside man” (or woman, or whatever), a contact you have that helps you get a job or better service or a better price or whathaveyou.

My father-in-law mentioned to my brother-in-law’s brother at a family dinner that I hadn’t been able to open a cuenta RUT. He happens to work at a bank in a semi-highish position (I gather). He said: "give me your datos (info) and I’ll have an account executive call you tomorrow and set you up with an account."

So I did… and he did… and they called… and I have an account. I even got a call from the branch manager to welcome me to the bank and to make sure that everything had gone smoothly and that I had been treated well.

Today I had to go in to pick up a little apparatus called a “multipass” which generates passwords every minute, which you need, in addition to your personal internet password, to do anything online.

The bank employee looked at my ID card she asked: “They gave you an account even though you are a temporary resident?”

Yes! You see, my people know people who know people.

This is where I keep waiting for something to go horribly wrong: they take away my account because I have almost no money in there, or they decide they don’t want to take a risk, or they start charging me some astronomical maintenance fees or something and I end up ruing the day that I tried to bypass the system… someone tell me that is not going to happen?

Of course, if I have any problem… my “pituto” told me to call him and he’d take care of it.

Coming... coming

Sorry to abandon you for so long

I have been busy! Like panicked busy...

Not too busy to make plum jam with Eileen though. (Click on her name and read her take on Santiago being named the #1 place to visit by the New York Times)

The jam turned out pretty good, but a little tart (then I made juice that was too tart and tarts that were pretty tart--apparently the plums are more tart than they come across). I told everyone to eat the jam quickly, just in case... I don't want to kill anyone with botulism.

Anyway, I will write something of substance soon... I think!