Aneya & Lauren: Going out of town.

So we are going on our own separate adventures to the above places and will be without internet for a couple weeks. Can you guess where they are? They're all in Southern Chile -- but some don't resemble this too much anymore.

We'll keep you posted!

-- Aneya & Lauren

Aneya: Shops

Shops here in Santiago are organized in a very odd fashion. Stores that sell the same product- such a shoes, for women, all go on one street. Then tech stores go on another. So literally, you'll be walking down the street and pass 20 shoe stores. Daniela explained this to us early on, saying things such as "So this is the eyeglass area. If you need new glasses, come here!" And sure enough, optometrists, in their white overcoats sat outside their stores, chain smoking, waiting for costumers. Why wouldn't they spread the competition around? Why cluster all of them together, making it difficult for the costumer to choose? Maybe I just don't know the stores well enough, maybe one is obviously superior to another. Who knows?

Santiago has many speciality stores, which I love. I'm so used to mega stores, which sell everything from toothpaste to gardening equipment, but here, you won't find that. Sure they have big super stores ( like Jumbo, picture above) but they're few and far between. In the city, you'll see a store that just sells printer ink. That's it. The whole store just sells ink. Then you'll have a cell phone accessories store. Like those sad little vendors you'll see in the middle of the mall? Just like that, but an entire store. Music stores, amazingly still exist here, and even they are very particular- one will only sell Peruvian music, another, Mexican. The music blasts through the open doors as people browse through the CDs (yes, people still buy CDs here!)

There are lingerie stores, of course. But not just for women. Men, too, get there own stores dedicated their undergarments, and it's quite amusing to see. I'm not talking about some manly boxers, or even those tight boxer briefs in the Calvin Klein ads. No, these are tightie whities, super small, speedo style underwear. And in crazy colors! Red lace, for instance. Umm, okay? Who exactly is wearing that? I don't want to know.

There's also a plethora of magazine stands scattered throughout the city, selling candy bars, soda, chips, all kinds of snacks, with magazines and newspapers clipped everywhere, some are so stuffed you can hardly see the person behind the counter. They also sell men's magazines. Lots of them. And let me tell you, there's no black bar here. Everything is exposed. And I mean everything. And prominently too, they're not hiding in the back. They're displayed front and center, and it's quite jarring in the morning to see a huge pair of boobs in your face (well, for me anyway). More boobs than butt, which has surprised me. In any case, no one else seems to mind, and yes, people (ahem, men) sometimes will stop in their tracks and stare, but usually people just keep walking by, like it's no big deal. Cause it's not, really. Just something else to get used to.

There are big department stores, such as Ripley or Paris, but there are also nicknack stores, lamp stores, tool stores, stationary stores (reminds me of my old job!) there's everything, basically. And I love that small businesses still survive here. It's that charming, old fashioned, small town appeal that just never gets old. Keep it up, Santiago! Don't succumb to the superstore!

Aneya: Things I Miss

So living here in Chile has brought up lots of memories of living in France (hence the constant references to all things French). It's the only other foreign country I lived in (I also lived in England, but that hardly counts as foreign) and yet my experiences here have been completely different from those in Europe.

For one thing, I'm an adult here, I'm living on my own. In France, I was a child, a teenager, really, and I lived with my family, and they took care of everything. My only concern was school, my dance classes and walking the dog. Here, I've had to do absolutely everything on my own- lease an apartment, buy a cellphone, buy groceries, find my way around the city, understand the metro and bus routes, find a job. All in another language I don't know very well. Lauren's been a great help, of course. But still, it's been a challenge, one I've never had to go through before in my life.

One thing that commonly happens when living abroad is that you start to get homesick. You start to miss things about your home country you didn't even really think about while you were there. This was incredibly hard for me in France. I was a teenager, so I was already miserable and grumpy most of the time. Being in France only made it worse. I hated France! I missed absolutely everything about the States, from the junk food to Pop Culture, from TV shows to movies (which did eventually come to France, months later).

I would lay in bed at night, thinking about Pop Tarts and Oreos, about Snapple and Chips Ahoy! I'd think about Sonic Burgers and peanut butter (not together, obviously) Basically every fatty, nasty food they didn't have in France, I wanted. Never mind that I was living in the land of amazing pastries, of fresh, incredible bread and cheese and wine. No, that didn't interest me. I wanted my Dove bars, dammit! When my brother and I would fly into the States, we'd stand in the Cincinnati airport (our go-to transfer airport to get to Vegas), breathing in the intoxicating smells of CinnaBun and Pizza Hut. We were home! The sounds of American voices filled our ears and we rejoiced! Finally, real people, real food!

Well, I'm happy to report I don't feel any of those strange urges for junk food here. I think that may have been an adolescent phase, because I don't crave those things in the States, either (except Dove bars. I do love those). I really don't miss that much about the US yet, to be honest. I mean, it's only been a little over 2 months, and I lived in France for 6 years, on and off, so there's a big difference. But still, there are some things I do miss.

There's no particular food that I can think of (Lauren, on the other hand, says she misses her European beer Chimay White on Tap, to be precise, And the entire contents of Trader Joe's) But I do miss flavor. Nothing here has spice, taste, herbs, it's all so bland. I also miss food coming with something. If you ask for a ham sandwich here, you're getting two pieces of toast with slab of ham on it. That's it. No condiments, no toppings, no side of fries. Nothing.

Honestly the thing I miss most is watching the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. I watched that show religiously, and it's incredibly difficult to find full episodes online. It's so frustrating! There's all these copyright laws where they can't show episodes from certain companies because of the "country you're currently in". How do they know where I am?? Oh, Internet you're so sneaky sometimes.

In any case, living here in Chile has been a growing experience, for sure. There are things I miss (mostly people, like my friends and family) But Skype and Facebook has helped with that. This trip so far has been completely crazy, in the best way possible. And I'm thinking it's only gonna get better from here.

Aneya & Lauren: Park in La Reina.

Aneya: Check out those Andes! At twilight they're especially clear.



Aneya: I was trying to get Lauren to jump, this is what ensued.


Aneya: Lauren told me she used to hang upside down from these things all the time, so I told her to show me. Well, this took a while. First she tried climbing up it, but was too scared to swing down. Finally, she got it!

Aneya: So last week a new friend of mine took me out to show me all the different parts of Santiago I hadn't seen yet (turns out, there are many!) One of the places he took me was a beautiful park in La Reina (a suburb north of Santiago, right up against the Andes). The park used to be called Parque Intercomunal and is now Parque Padro Hurtado (Chileans love changing the names of things- streets, monuments, parks). Ya know, just to be confusing.

Lauren: It was so confusing. It took me forever to find it online, because older posts had it as parque intercommunal. But then there was this other name coming up, and Google wasn't yielding anything. I wanted to see this foresty park! Finally I found a post about the name change.

Aneya: It is one of the most beautiful parks I've ever been to. When my friend took me it was sunset, the mountains were a deep purple, the sky was pink, the rolling grass going on forever. The park has a cute little lake where you can rent boats, ducks floating around you. It also has ponies you can rent, a little train that runs through it and a large stadium for shows (or impromptu football games) It's really just lovely.

Lauren: It's gigantic. It was so nice. When we finally found this place, there was just so much to do there. The lake was super adorable, tons of ducks with really stranger coloring, little paddle boats, oh, and the huge, gigantic Andes.

Aneya: So anyway, I decided I had to take Lauren to this amazing place, what with her being a tree lover and all. My friend had driven me there, and it was far-- probably an hour outside of the city-- but I figured it couldn't be that hard. Take a metro here, a bus there and voila!

Lauren: Oh, the things I will do to see some trees. Parks here are known for being really scattered, growing everything that will take, and there were so many varieties here. Getting here was the problem. Two metro transfers, a bus, and another mile walking. It was scorching hot -- the summer heat hasn't broken yet -- and I was seriously beginning to believe that death was neigh. But then we found the park. Looked around a bit, laid out the blanket, read, and examined some really cool bark on trees. This was what I came for.

Aneya: We took a metro, then a bus, but somehow ended up getting off at the wrong stop, and walking forever, in the blistering heat. I don't know why this always ends up happening to us. I forgot how much easier things are with a car! Anyway, we finally made it, and crashed at the first sign of shade.

Lauren: I'm used to life without a car, but this was ridiculous. Buses here are much more regular, as are metros, but because they are so frequent and reliable everyone takes them. You have a small pocket of space, and that's it. Oh, and no air conditioning. I was getting a little claustrophobic with all those people around.

Aneya: We read our books and plugged in our ipods, ready to fall asleep, exhausted from the commute! The park was completely empty- it was a Wednesday at 4, I guess most people had better things to do. But that was fine. There was the occasional man on a horse, some kids, but mostly, it was dead.

Lauren: Horses! People ride their horses here. It was a bit surprising. I don't think I've ever seen a horse just hanging out in the park. We laid in the shade, until it wasn't shade anymore because the shadow of the tree moved. Then we decided we had rested enough. It was time to explore more.

Aneya: When we were fully rested we walked around the entire park, then took the bus home. (An hour on a bus is a lot longer than an hour in a car, let me tell you. Especially when the driver is a maniac and people are slamming into you from all angles) But, it was worth it. I'd definitely do it all again, if it meant getting to that beautiful park.

Lauren: It was really an amusing ride home. We saw some really gorgeous old buildings, a lot of Santiago coming from La Reina home to Centro. We had seats so I was happy to just plug in the iPod and watch the world go by. An excellent day at the park.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Vineyards.

Yay we made it!
Look how happy we are to finally be there!
The beautiful entrance to the vineyard
Big, French made oak barrels full of wine! Yes please!
Lauren was clearly in need of some booze.
The whole place was just so beautiful, I felt like I was back in Europe.
The original people were from France (but of course) and they lived here in the late 1800s. The mansion was hit by the earthquake, and is extremely old, so we weren't allowed in.
The lake is man made, and the sprawling grass and hills was supposed to resemble a Victorian English garden.
We tasted these grapes, which were older and therefore sweeter than the younger ones. Delicious!
I so wanted to run through the vines, like in the movies, but alas, I wasn't allowed. This was as close as I was gonna get.
The orange sticker means "Crazy American". I'm assuming, anyway....
These barrels had to be preserved at just the right temperature, and most had been sitting there for at least 6 months.

Lauren: Things in Santiago have been a bit tense since the earthquake, but still slowly settling. Aneya and I have gotten back to applying for jobs and just getting back to business-as-usual, when we realized that one of the amazing things about Santiago that we wanted to explore from the getgo were all the amazing vineyards around the city!

Aneya: The atmosphere in the city is definitely business as usual now, and we've been applying for jobs, meeting friends, getting back to life, basically. And one thing we'd been wanting to do was visit one of the many vineyards in the area.

Lauren: So I started researching a few days ago about local tours and found one a bit far out in Quilin. It was an hour on the metro, and a bus ride, and when we finally got there they said the vineyard was closed because of damages because of the earthquake. Major bummer. We were out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do. No wine tasting. Great.

Aneya: That trip was loooong. Like, we were in the metro for literally an hour. It was hot, we didn't know where we were, and we were being turned down, at the gates of what looked like a beautiful vineyard. Car after car sailed through, but we were told to go home. Actually, we were told to walk 2 blocks, where we'd find another vineyard. Fine.

Lauren: So the colectivo we took told us all about another closeish vineyard. Why not? We're already out of the house, have nothing better to do that day, fine. So we went get on the train for another long period of commuting. Oh, the things we will do for a tour of a vineyard.

Aneya: We walked those two blocks to find the same damn vineyard, which was obviously closed! What is wrong with people? And why didn't it say on their website (which Lauren checked that very morning) that it would closed for 2 whole months? I mean, come on, Chile. Luckily we found the colectivo, who told us about yet another vineyard, farther away.

Lauren: Thankfully everything worked out. We were at a new gorgeous, gigantic vineyard -- Concha y Toro -- in no time. Sprawling lawns, gorgeous Victorian English style gardens, a lake. This was just the most excellent peaceful afternoon we could have asked for. And it came with two glasses of wine! A plus.

Aneya: The colectivo driver was a lifesaver. We got on another metro to the very last stop, got on another bus and finally- finally, made it to Concha y Toro. We were beyond relieved to find it open and willing to give us a tour (en Espangol, the English tours were done for the day) Fine. Whatever. Just get us a drink, please!

It ended being incredibly beautiful, the endless vines going on as far as the eye could see, a gorgeous Victorian English garden, an old mansion, and of course, French made barrels full of delicious wine! We were in heaven. The tour guide was pretty quiet to begin with (then again I'm used to uber chatty American guides who never shut up) but he surprised both of us in the end, when he began chatting us up-- in perfect English, no less! We sipped the incredibly strong (14% alcohol!) Cabernet Sauvignon, sighing happily to ourselves when we realized our day had turned out pretty damn well after all.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Touching.

Lauren: Something totally kosher in Chile that is a big no-no in the States is touching strangers. Everyone touches you, and that's totally OK here. The personal space bubble doesn't exist whatsoever.

Aneya: We've already talked about how affectionate people are here, with their families, their spouses, their children. It's a touchy- feely society, and that's great. But it's definitely a change from the curt handshake of the States.

Lauren: Some people I don't mind invading the space bubble, but there are some people, like drunken men on the streets, gypsies, people selling things, that I really don't want to touch me. But other people, ones your just having a casual conversation with on the bus, in the elevator, will grab your hand or forearm without a second thought to emphasize a point.

Aneya: Last night we were out to dinner and a young girl came by each table, handing out packs of gum for us to buy. The tables were already ridiculously close together, but she squeezed in between them, tapping people on the shoulder, touching their arms, anything to get our attention. I was surprised by how audacious she was, she was obviously trained by someone to do this. That's one thing, drunks trying to grab you is another.

Lauren: I wouldn't say it's better or worse, just definitely a surprise. Some people, like the very rare drunk (I wouldn't want people to think this was all the time), will touch your shoulder, but again that's very rare.

Aneya: People just like to get close, what can I say? The personal bubble which Americans hold so dearly is completely gone out the window here. It's funny because in France, the land of kisses and romance, one would think the population would be just as touchy. It's the opposite, actually. Apart from the requisite bisous, there's no other physical contact. The French simply wouldn't have it any other way.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Smoking.

At California Bar on St. Patrick's Day. The place was filled to the brim and everyone was smoking. Our hair, clothes, everything reeked afterwards.

Lauren: There's definitely a haze over Santiago, some people think it's smog and as a runner I was a bit concerned about running through toxic air, but after nearly three months (!) in Chile we've realized that the haze we see is from all of the smokers.

Aneya: I wasn't sure what Chile's policies were on smoking, and I was just as surprised as Lauren to see people puffing away here. It reminds me of France, actually.

Lauren: I remember noticing that some of our pictures were a bit foggy. Maybe it was the camera? But now I can see it was all the smoke in the restaurants/cafes/bars everywhere really. People smoke indoors, at work, at lunch. Our Red Cross recruiter was smoking the first time I met her. It's like 1950s America. Everyone smokes. Parents smoke while pushing strollers, and appallingly very rarely people have said that some pregnant women will smoke!

Aneya: The whole thing is very European, and I'm used to seeing people smoking in the most appalling places (hospital waiting room, anyone?) Lauren was especially shocked to see parents smoking in front of their young children. Now that's a great example! But I'd seen that so often in France, all it does is encourage the kids later on to try it. Oooh, and do they ever. My high school in France had a "smoking section" and all you had to do was have a signed waiver from your parents saying you were allowed to smoke (which everyone forged, of course). That was the "cool" place to hang out, and I would sit there with my friends, breathing in all the second hand smoke, wondering what I was doing there.

Lauren: All cigarettes come with a warning on one side and a picture of an unhealthy baby accompanies any cigarette advertisement. And yet, you leave the house and people are puffing away like chimneys.

Aneya: The picture of the baby is pretty graphic, it's premature and there are tubes going up it's nose. Hard to look at. Apparently not for some people.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Lauren: Missing person?

The US Embassy's Facebook page is asking for help locating a 22-year-old man who was in the South of Chile after the earthquake. Hugo Cen hasn't been heard from since Feb. 27, a day after the earthquake, and the Embassy is asking for any information that could help put his family in contact with him.

Cen was studying in Valparaiso when the earthquake struck, and wrote on his wall that he was OK after the quake, but hasn't been heard from since.

Anyone with information about Cen is asked to contact the U.S. Embassy in Santiago.

-- Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Chilean Time.

Lauren: One thing that is almost nonexistent here in Chile, is punctuality. Now, I would think this would be nice. A break from rigid schedules of the US, getting somewhere 20 minutes late and that being totally acceptable, but really for us this has been maddening, and our frustration went to a new level yesterday at the Red Cross of all places.

Aneya: Oh my god did it ever. There is such a thing as "Chilean Time" and Daniela informed us of this early on. A Chilean says they'll meet you at 11? Get there at around 11:30, although you might still be waiting. It's fine if you're just meeting friends, and you know of it before hand. But sometimes it's just downright rude.

Lauren: On the phone with the Red Cross girl the day before, I was told to be at the Red Cross at 9 a.m. Wow! That's early. But you know what? Since I said I'll be there at 9, I'll be there at 9 a.m. I said I would, so I'm going to do it. Right? We were there before even the directors! They casually rolled in around 9:30.

Aneya: Not to mention the two of us were completely hungover, and yet we still managed to walk all the way to the Red Cross building and be there at exactly 9 am. When we walked in, we were informed that our boss wasn't there yet. Excuse me? We were told to have a seat and wait for her arrival. I was seriously pissed.

Lauren: Talking to other people, they said the Red Cross had told them 9 a.m. too. At first I was afraid it was my Spanish, but those Chileans! They said 9 a.m. so people would get there at 9:30 a.m., but they also told other people 9:30 a.m. so we were waiting around until 10 a.m. This is so characteristically Chilean. Now I can be a bit of a stick in the mud about these things, but if you want me there at 9:30 or 10 a.m. say that!

Aneya: I mean, come on. The building was bustling with people, and everyone looked just as confused as were. A couple women sat down with us and they also were told to come at 9. Some were told 9:30. What the woman should have said was 10, because that's when things got started. Actually, scratch that, 10:30 is when things really got rolling.

Lauren: In truth we've had a lot of adjustment in our lives. The time here is totally different from that in America.

Chile's time for everything is different. Lunch is around 3-4 p.m. Onces, like tea time, are at 7 p.m. Dinner is quite often around 10 p.m. People begin to party at 1 a.m. This is something Aneya and I just cannot get used to! Dinner at 10 p.m.? I'm hungry before then, though! Onces are just not enough to keep me going through the day.

Aneya: It's true, everything is later here, just like in Europe. Meals last a lot longer (2 hours, although one time it lasted 4!) and everything has a different pace. The dinner thing is definitely the hardest to get used to. I'm hungry at 6, 7 and I don't want a little once, I want a big meal! I remember one night, early on, we went out to dinner on a Saturday night, in one of the hippest neighborhoods in the city. It was around 7:30 and the place was deserted. We didn't understand. Where were all the people? At home, eating their onces, that's where!

Lauren: We went out to dinner one time, and the old folks were arriving after us! Grandma and grandpa were having dinner at 10 p.m.! It was crazy! I was a bit embarrassed.

Aneya: That was funny. We were like, "Ok, this time we're not leaving the house until 8:30! That'll show 'em!" And then, as we were leaving the restaurant, in walked the senior citizens. Oh, Chile.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Lauren: The Grocery Store.

Yesterday I learned something that totally, I can't even say, it revolutionized my thinking about Chile. The baggers at the supermarket will go home with you if you ask them to. They push the shopping cart to your house, take it into the elevator, push it to your front door, and put the groceries on the counter.

They go home with strangers, then push the cart back to the supermarket. Now obviously they won't push it very far, and it's between $1-2 for this service, but I can't get over the fact that these young people go home with strangers! And that the shopping carts go in the elevator! This just blew my mind.

What do their mothers think of this? I know what mine would say if I went into a stranger's home and unpacked their groceries. She thinks I'm already bad with strangers (as do most people), but this is, I mean, unthinkable. Yet, charming, and strange.

This came up when I was helping Daniela apartment hunt and the bagger was pushing a grocery cart down the sidewalk, pausing to help the old woman pick up her dry cleaning. Picking up her dry cleaning. The bagger at the supermarket. I couldn't believe this.

There are other oddities at the supermarket, like how formal certain things are. For instance, you need to have this special number, like a social security number, to get a savings card. Since I am without a RUT (the number) I don't qualify to get a savings card. In the US they hand those things out like it's nobody's business!

So I can somehow get an apartment, internet, a cellphone, but a savings card to Lider is just too much. It's so strange.

-- Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Working for the Red Cross ... and blackouts?

Lauren, in her spiffy new apron.
Me, holding a pack of liquid soap.
So. Much. Toothpaste. There are boxes under those, all filled with toothpaste.

Ahhh my toilet paper avalanche!
This is what we had to write on all 500 or so bags we made.
All those boxes are filled with food.
You can't even tell how big this really is, we couldn't get past the door!

Lauren: Aneya and I spent this weekend working with the Red Cross, opening boxes filled with goods donated from Antofagasta, a city in the north of Chile. We really had no idea what we were getting ourselves in for, but thought we'd swing by and ask about when we'd be leaving for the South. Next thing we know we're neck deep in boxes and boxes of toiletries.

Aneya: We hadn't heard any news from the Red Cross since the day we'd signed up to go South, so we decided to stop by their headquarters in Providencia to ask what was up. The minute we walked in they're like "You're volunteers? Great Here's where you need to go." Apparently they were a little low on helpers. Hey- we weren't doing anything, might as well check it out.

Lauren: We stopped by the Red Cross main headquarters to ask about when we would head to either Talca or Concepcion, and there wasn't much information readily available ... but were we available today? It was Saturday, sure why not. They send us over to the Red Cross receiving center in the sketchier part of town.

Aneya: We were in our gym clothes, out for a run, so we went home, had lunch, changed and headed over to the other Red Coss center, eager to see what they wanted us to do.

Lauren: We're lead to a dark room and told to just start opening boxes, and organizing whatever you found inside. Some people were really sweet, taking whatever they didn't need or maybe even did, and packing it away for their fellow Chilean in the South.

Aneya: We were given Cruz Roja aprons (pictured above) when we entered the building, which was actually just an old house. One room was filled to the brim with boxes and boxes of food, another room had mountains of garbage bags filled with clothes and another room-- the one we'd be working in-- was filled with toiletries.

Lauren: It was like an awful episode from "Hoarders". After a while everything just started to look the same. Was this shampoo or body wash? For some reason, my Spanish was failing me and the dim lighting in our little corner wasn't helping. We were really kicking some Red Cross ass, though. We had maybe over two hundred boxes of jumbled goods, sorted, opened, and organized. Everything was ready to be put in a family emergency kit. Aneya was working the toilet paper room like it was nobody's business, stuffing those rolls literally up to the ceiling. No breathing was allowed in the TP room, to prevent an avalanche of white tissue paper.

Aneya: The Red Cross boss came in and told us to start organizing things into piles- shampoo here, diapers here, soap here. It wasn't as easy as it sounds. There were literally mountains of unopened boxes to go through. But that's just what we did. We opened and organized all day long, our fingers aching by the end of day. I ended up in charge of the the toilet paper room, as I delicately placed roll after roll on the giant mountain I'd created, so big it literally reached the ceiling.

Lauren: While it was really touching to see people band together and spare anything they had, there were some things that were just rude or annoying. Some people must consider the Red Cross an alternative to the garbage can. I found a few empty bottles of things, but not many. Or old toothbrushes that dated back from the Allende Administration (was it an "administration"?). Things that once they were out of their box, would fall apart practically immediately. Not something that people in a State of Catastrophe really need.

And then there were the grandmas who wrapped things in three different bags, tied with six different knots, before wrapping the one bar of soap with Duct tape twelve times. Grandma, people need to get into this bag at some point. I luckily had a razor to cut things open. That was pretty maddening.

Aneya: It was really touching to see all things people had donated. You could tell some of that had just been used, like a half roll of toilet paper or a small bar of soap, painstakingly wrapped a million times. But still, people were trying. The variety of things was quite amazing. Enormous, expensive-looking bottles of shampoo, and then a toothbrush, yellowing and dirty, from the 70s. I don't want to give people that! They deserve better.

Lauren: The second day we got to assemble packets for families, and we seriously knocked that out of the park. We must have made at least 500 kits for families and it was amazing. Our family kits were piled taller than we were and we had to use another exit because we had trapped ourselves into one room.

At the end of each day our fingers ached from opening so many boxes wrapped in plastic, my back hurt from all the bending down, standing up, after five hours each day we were ready to call it quits.

Aneya: The second day we went right to work on making the family packets, which consisted of the following things:

1 soap (liquid or bar)

1 large shampoo

2 toothbrushes (adult)

2 children's toothbrushes

1 toothpaste

1 pack of sanitary pads

6 rolls of toilet paper

1 detergent

1 clorox

And that was just the small Caja Familiar there was a big one too, which we didn't get to, because all we had were plastic bags to put all these things in. We made hundreds and hundreds of these, sometimes slipping in extras, like deodorant or moisturizer, candles with matches (definitely good to have!) once we started running out of things. Honestly, the amount of pads was astonishing, we had at least four huge boxes filled with them! We found a single box of tampons, and Lauren goes "What's this?" That's how long it's been since she'd seen one!

Lauren: Strangely, the place seemed to be entirely run by teenagers. Where were all the adults? We met one person over the age of 17 once, who told us what to do, but other than that, we were stuck with moody, snobby 17-and-under kids! There was one other volunteer who came with her son, but the rest of the volunteers were young and had bad attitudes and didn't want to work! They just laid around half the time and were mean to us. It was totally what you wouldn't expect to see at the Red Cross.

Aneya: Ya, the bad attitude from the rest of the staff was definitely surprising. You would think, volunteers at the Red Cross would be nice, kind hearted people. And yet- the kids working with us were snobby, cliquey they didn't say a damn word to us all day. Lauren would ask them a question and they would just flat out ignore her. It was really rude and we couldn't understand what we'd done wrong. Was it because we were American? Or because we were ruining their good time by working our asses off? I couldn't tell you why.

Lauren: So by the end of Sunday we're beat. We spent the two days doing back breaking work, we're dirty, tired, and starved. So we get home and just have a beer, I'm reading my book, Aneya's in her room doing her own thing, when the lights dim and dim and dim until there's no light. We're sitting in total darkness. At that point I almost just went to bed right then, but figured I should consult Aneya and see what was going on.

Aneya: We got home, exhausted after a long day, we had dinner, I was in my room on my computer when the lights started dimming, then just went off completely. What's going on now? I swear to god, every day it's something!

Lauren: All the street lights, the traffic signals, everything was dark. 90 percent of the country was affected because a transformer blew out in BioBio. We stupidly, owned one candle a "Rdo. de Villarica" candle that Aneya got when we were in the South the first time. We didn't know what to do, but inexplicably, I was just immediately very hungry. Aneya and I got out the cheeses, crackers, bread, wine, everything we could find and just had a little picnic. Our electricity was restored within 30 minutes, but other people in Santiago were without electricity for hours. By this time we were stuffed, exhausted, and ready for bed.

Aneya: We took my little puny candle and sat at our little breakfast nook, eating and drinking in the dark and thinking about how insane our lives had become. And then, the lights came back on, and all was well. Except then a scary alarm when off in our building and we were afraid there was a fire or something. But it went away eventually, and we fell into bed, exhausted after another crazy day.

-- Aneya & Lauren

Aneya: The Bus System

Ahh, the buses of Chile. I feel that I know them well by now. I've taken the metropolitan ones, of course. They whip through the streets of Santiago at an alarming speed, stopping whenever they feel like it, to pick up passengers or men selling ice cream or coloring books or, weirdest of all, band aids (Really? You're trying to sell a single band aid?) You must have a BIP! card to get on (you can't pay with money) which is both a good and a bad thing. The buses can be a nice alternative to the hot, stuff metros, and we use them frequently. I have to say the public transportation system in this city is efficient, affordable and downright impressive.

But what I really want to talk about are the other buses. The big, regional buses that pull up to the station every day, inching forward until their huge rearview mirrors threaten to hit awaiting passengers in the head. We've also taken quite a few of those. Some, to nearby cities like Valparaiso or Isla Negra (both about 2 hours away) we've also taken long bus rides, down to Temuco (8 hours going, 12 hours coming back). And the system is always the same. And yet it never fails to amuse me.

You buy your ticket beforehand, at the counter. It's really just a receipt, it doesn't look like an "official ticket" and yet-- it is. They tell you, vaguely, where they think the bus will be arriving "either gate 8 or 15". Grreat. So one of us will run over to gate 8, the other at 15, waiting. The bus is usually late, and people herd around the entrance, barely letting passengers off before they race on. You have assigned seats, which is nice. And then- you're off. The bus driver, usually an older man, and his assistant, a younger one, sit in the front section, which is blocked off by a door. It's clear glass, so you can see right through it, but they can talk privately.

I think it's so cute, that the driver has a buddy he can chat with, especially during those long journeys. The younger man will eventually come to the back and collect the tickets, ripping them in half and asking where our final destination is. He asks this, because people get off at a variety of odd locations. And I mean odd. You'll hear the men talking "Ya, just drop me off next to that tree other there, that's fine." "You see that little shack in the middle of nowhere? Right there's good." It's unbelievable, really. And yet. The driver obliges and drops people off wherever they want, making the journey that much longer.

And yet, Lauren and I don't really mind. By this point, we're used to it. We've got our iPods on, we're singing along, we look at the beautiful scenery around us. We watch as oncoming buses honk in recognition of us, and the driver smiles and honks back. And we think what a lovely alternative this is to Greyhounds back in the U.S.

-- Aneya

Lauren: Tipping.

Tipping here is one of those things that is completely opposite from the United States. Anyone you can imagine tipping in the U.S., you don't tip here, and people you would never think of tipping you give a little extra cash.

I always thought tipping your hairdresser and cabbies was pretty much mandatory the world over, but apparently neither get tips here. The first time we took a cab, moving from our hostel to the apartment in January, I was scared to give the cabbie exact change. Would he give me a dirty look, curse at me, start screaming, pull out a gun even? No. He didn't expect a tip, although maybe that time I should have given him one because of the six gigantic suitcases he had to haul out of the car.

I always thought tipping was for doing a service that you appreciated, especially when someone does a very good job, like your hair. But that's totally unheard of here. As Daniela pointed out, it's their job. It's a cabbie's job to get you where you want for a specified fare, and hairdressers stay in business by doing a good job cutting people's hair. Still though, you would want to reward them for getting you somewhere expediently, or being especially carefully cutting your hair, right? Apparently, not.

That being said, there are a few services you tip for that you wouldn't in the states; for me, the strangest of these is the postman. You tip the mailman when he brings your mail, and if it's an especially important document you tip him extra, as much as $4USD! This puzzles me because it's not her/his choice what mail you get, but if (s)he's responsible for getting you the mail as quickly as possible, I guess that's something to tip for.

Also, the bag boy at the grocery store gets a little something as you leave the store. It may even be the only wages they earn, because they might only be allowed to be there by the grocery store; they might not be employees -- although I'm still not sure about that. You give the grocery boy/girl about $.20USD, but I can totally see this as a tipable job.

They make sure your bags are light enough to not break when you carry them home, and put the heavy things on the bottom. The first few weeks here, Aneya and I must have looked like cheapskates walking right by the bagger, carrying all of our change home.

Waitresses and waiters also don't exactly make good money in tips here, either. For dinner for four, an acceptable tip is $2USD, usually a little less than 10 percent of the bill. And some cafes will suggest gratuity for your coffee and then just keep the change.

That's another surprising thing. Sometimes, if the change is only a few hundred pesos, people will just keep the change without discussing it first! They just assume you won't care if they keep a few hundred pesos, which really only work out to a few cents and sounds kind of petty, but still! Who you tip and don't still remains a bit of a mystery.

-- Lauren

Aneya & Lauren: Presidential Inauguration ... and a possible tsunami?

One of the many marching bands in Valparaiso, awaiting the new President.
Such funny hats! They look like lampshades.
That's the ugly Congressional building, where Pinera was sworn in. See how empty it is?
Ahhh scary bomb squad guys! I asked them to pose for a picture, they weren't amused...
Lost of policemen on horses, not doing much "protecting" since I was right next to them.
Pinera! Look at the lax security around him...
Lauren and I couldn't believe how close we were...
I'm literally walking right behind his car, there's no barricade, nothing....
Later, at Mondea, the sparse crowd awaits the President's return.
And there he is! We were way closer to him hours earlier, in Valparaiso.
He gave a heartfelt speech from the balcony, very Evita of him.

Aneya: So Lauren and I had been cooped up in the apartment for the past two weeks, just lying low, adjusting to all the aftershocks and trying to get our bearing again. But after awhile, we were itching to leave the city. So on Thursday, when we heard President Pinera was being inaugurated in Valparaiso (yes, crazy amputee town) we got the first ticket out of here.

Lauren: We were finally in better spirits, and this was a historic moment we wanted to bear witness to. It was going to be in Valparaiso, but it was also the inauguration of a president, so we decided to buy two bus tickets out of town and check it out.

Aneya: Neither of us loved Valparaiso, the first time we visited, if you recall. And yet, we figured it's a historic day, so why not venture over to the town of freaks and scary looking dogs? It couldn't be that bad! Little did we know....

Lauren: That it would feel like doomsday in Region V.

Aneya: The bus ride was fine, completely normal 2 hour journey to the coastal port town. There were little groups of people lining the highways with Chile flags, and lots of police. We figured this was normal, the President, plus dignitaries from around South America, where all heading this direction. When we got to Valparaiso, the road to the terminal had been blocked off, so we were dropped off on a random street. The city was as dirty and gross as every, piles of debris still lying around, cabbage splayed everywhere, sick dogs, and scary looking people. Ahh yes, it was just as we'd left it!

Lauren: It was dirty, but the earthquakes made it dirtier. Giant piles of rubble everywhere, a few collapsed buildings. Why didn't people clean up here like they do in Santiago?

On the bus as we descended into the coastal region from the hills, there was heavy fog. It was nothing like sunny Santiago, but we figured hey, it's just a marine layer. We know all about that in LA. Whatever. Valparaiso was still depressing, but that's fine, we were there to see the president get inaugurated.

Aneya: We made our way towards the commotion and saw lines of military men with funny looking hats, plus at least 5 different marching bands. This was it! So why was nobody here? There were a couple hundred people, with Chile flags and pins, waiting for the President to leave the Congressional building. We waited with them, as the band played and marched in place. There were crazy looking bomb squad guys, and police everywhere. The atmosphere wasn't very happy, it was quiet, and a little tense. We didn't understand. This is their new President! The country voted for him, why aren't they more excited? Where were all the people?

Lauren: It was so strange. No one was cheering, hardly anyone was outside. All 300 people in attendance were eerily silent. What's wrong with these people? It's a new day, a new president. Why weren't they more excited?

Aneya: Finally, people starting leaving, the big, ugly Congressional building. It appeared they were members of his Cabinet. The left the building, then quickly got into these big square mini-vans and rode off. But where was Pinera himself? People had their radios turned up and we listened as we heard cheers erupting from the building. Then, we saw him! Looking giddy with his new sash, Pinera got in an old Ford convertible and rode down the street, waving and smiling to the small crowd.

Lauren and I ran after his car and after a moment we were literally right behind him. I couldn't believe the lack of security! I could have jumped into the back of the car with him if I wanted to! There was no barricade, just 5 men walking slowly beside the car. That's it. I walked right behind it, next to a large horse with a policeman on it. The whole thing was really unbelievable. Oh and I swear he looked right at me and smiled at one point!

Lauren: It was both a lot of security, and not enough protecting the president. Police in unnecessary riot gear, yes, but maybe 10 secret service guys. And it was the shortest post inauguration procession ever. Just walking down the stairs, he hopped in a classic Ford, drove about a block and a half then got in another car and sped away. Why? I mean, there weren't a lot of people to give a speech for, but still. A little something else would have been expected. Five bands, 10 soldiers on horses, and this ten minute procession was it? There was just something not right about all this, but hey, we got closer to the president than a lot of people.

Aneya: That was definitely the highlight of our day. Pinera eventually got out of his convertible and into a safer, covered car, then sped away. It was definitely the strangest inauguration we'd ever attended but hey- this is Chile, maybe they just do things a little differently here? Anyway, after he left, we decided to get lunch. But where? Everything was shut down, and everyone seemed to be fleeing the area. Again, we didn't know why this was happening, but we decided to get a bus to Vina del Mar, the supposedly glamorous sea side city that's 15 minutes away.

Lauren: Everything was closed. Everything. It was like a ghost town. The few people in attendance were the only people in the entire city. So since everything was closed, we thought we'd take a municipal bus to Vina, and walk around there. Hopefully it would be sunnier, and we could just relax, walk around before heading back to Santiago.

Aneya: So we get on this tiny little bus, and we get the last two seats available. We're still on a high from being so close to the President, and we feel so lucky we got to be a part of it. We're also still surprised at the lack of people, but we figure everyone's still shook up from the earthquake. We enter Vina fairly quickly, and then realize we have no idea where to get off. And the bus is getting more crowded by the minute. People jam themselves in, standing wherever they can, some hanging off the side. I'm starting to feel really claustrophobic, and this stupid baby carriage is poking me in the arm (just fold the damn thing, the baby's in your lap!)

Lauren: People were hanging out of the car, and the bus driver said nothing. He sped along, and as we got into the hills, there was this incredible traffic. We've never experienced traffic in Chile; we figured it must be from the president's visit. All the streets had to be closed off, and other streets were impacted. This bus was so crowded, it was unbelievable. Where was the entire city going at the same time?

Aneya: So we're on this bus, and now we're starting to panic, because even if we did want to leave, there's four huge guys blocking the door! And the stupid baby carriage! So we sit still, and look for signs of life. But the entire town is shut down! There's no one on the streets, and no restaurants appear to be open. What the hell is happening?

Lauren: It was eerily quite in Vina, too. There was no obvious place to get off, because the whole town was closed. It was Thursday at 2 p.m., an odd time for siestas, vacations, or any other excuse for closing up shop early. Whatever. We just wanted to see a new city, get out of Santiago for the day, relax. This crowded, tiny bus was anything but calming.

Aneya: We finally get off, at the last possible stop. Now we've driven all the way through Vina and we're on top of one of the many hills. Everyone seems to get off the higher up we go. I have no idea why. We're both hungry and tired by now, and we have no idea where we are. Oh, and we have to pee too. Things aren't lookin too good.

Lauren: I talk to a passenger who tells me that we must get off at the next stop. So we have no options, it's here that we must get off. But by now we're in a tiny pueblo, with dirt sidewalks, and about five shops. I ask someone if we can use his bathroom, but he says the whole town's water had been shut off. Strange. Why would that be? Whatever. We'll just have to wait until we get back. But, no bus, cab, colectivo, no one is offering to drive us back down the hill. We're stuck on this hill, in a tiny pueblo, and I just want to know how we're getting back home.

Aneya: We get a snack and try to think of a plan. We ask about toilets and are informed no one has any working water here. What?! Now we're really starting to panic. We quickly spot a cab and ask him to take us the the center of Vina, wherever the hell that is. And down the hill we go, Lauren questioning the driver about, well, everything. That's when we discover there's been a tsunami warning, and everyone was told to evacuate, that's why everything's closed. Oh shit.

Lauren: It was so crazy. I ask him, "So, um, why's everything closed? Where is everyone?"

"Oh, it must have been the two sizable replicas and the tsunami warning," he answers. Oh my, God. There is a tsunami warning and this guy is driving us straight toward the ocean. That's when things begin to click. People panicking, packing the bus to the brim, fleeing for high ground. The crowded streets on the hills, the fact that every store is closed, the doomsday/earthquake weather, the rubble that wasn't cleaned up. It was new rubble, piles 4-feet high and at least 3-feet across, and we're headed straight for the most unsafe place to be. Faaaantastic. It was almost laughable.

Aneya: This is really scary news. We don't know what to do. We get out of the cab and wander the ghost town of Vina. We spot a restaurant, and quickly use their bathroom. We ask if we can eat. The woman is totally bitchy and clearly stressed and sends us packing. Before we leave we see people screaming and running for their lives on TV. I check to see where they are. Valparaiso?! What? We were just there! This is getting too weird.

Lauren: That woman totally refused us service, in the meanest way possible. But we are in a "state of catastrophe." Naturally, she's a bit on edge. People are panicking, running, the streets empty except for us, a few derilicts, homeless and the dogs. Everyone else went straight to high ground. What were we thinking? Why did I suggest we go here? Of course, it was my bad idea, my fault.

Aneya: Lauren looks like she's starting to panic, and tells me we need to get the hell out of here, now. I tell her no, we need to eat first. Let's be sensible here. We find another restaurant and eat quickly, everyone is clearly on edge. Our waitress keeps looking outside, as if a giant wave is gonna come crashing by any moment. She informs us the tsunami alert went into affect at 2 am. She looks really scared, which in turn scares us. We eat quickly and leave, on the lookout for the nearest bus station.

Lauren: I needed to leave. Tsunami warnings? Two strong aftershocks?? Get me on the first bus home. Our little apartment sounded like paradise. But Aneya was insistent that we lunch first, and hey, why not? We're hungry, nervous, and we needed all the energy we could get. We still were one city away from our departure city and not sure if an exchange in Vina will work.

We find the second open restaurant a small fuente de soda, and the waitresses look on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Two people from the restaurant keep looking outside at the ocean, like watching the ocean would do anything. The other is being comforted by a cook in the kitchen, resassuringly rubbing her back with the "It's-all-going-to-be-fine" look. Oh, and the apocalypse was on the TV, playing people fleeing Valparaiso in a panic. Not exactly a calm meal. After that we're ready to get home and I ask around for the bus station to see if we might exchange our tickets for two hours earlier and from here instead of Valparaiso.

Aneya: We wander around Vina for awhile, looking for the bus station. We get there and Lauren asks if we exchange our tickets. The man calmly assures us we can, and the next thing we know we're on a bus, heading back to Santiago.

Lauren: It was the easiest thing I've ever done. "Excuse me, sir. I'd like to exchange these two tickets leaving Valparaiso at 6 p.m. for two leaving here immediately." "Sure thing." I feel like if the same thing happened in the States people would be screaming, angry, panicked, but not here. People were calmly doing business, making sure everyone could get where they needed to as soon as possible.

Aneya: Lauren and I had seriously started talking about tsunami plans. I asked how her grip was, because she'd be holding on to a pole for a while. I worried I wasn't that good of a swimmer. She said she was, but she was scared things would fall on her and knock her out. We then started planning on possible evacuation techniques, if the bus was swept away in a wave. We decided we'd climb on the seats and pop the emergency exit door open. Lauren informed me that being on a bus was one of the worst places to be during a tsunami. Great.

Lauren: That was scary. "Now, get a hold of a pole, because that's deep in the ground. How safe do you think a bus is?" "Not safe at all. It's maybe the worst place ever to be in a tsunami. We'll have to break out a window, so the pressure equalizes. Wait, there's an escape hatch. We'd have to climb out of there."

Some guy started pitching a fit because his bulkhead was taken by another person. The company apparently overbooked those seats. Who cares, you fool! Have a seat. I want to evacuate already. Now wasn't the time to argue over petty things like seating arrangements. That being said, I was so glad to get the second bulkhead seats on the way home. If it was going to be the end of the world and I need to see what was coming at us, I wanted a good view.

Aneya: But everything worked out fine, and we got back to Santiago safe and sound. Of course when we got home we had tons of missed calls from our parents. They informed us about the two huge aftershocks (we were on the bus at the time and didn't feel either of them) and the tsunami warnings and everything else we'd missed.

Lauren: We weren't aware of half of the insanity that had happened. The strength of the aftershocks were a blur, we were on the bus and hadn't felt a thing. We were at Pinera's inauguration moments after the whole city evacuated. We were both fortunate to have missed such chaos and unfortunate to be so uninformed when we needed to know what was going on.

Aneya: Later that night we walked over to Moneda, where Pinera was to give a speech. The place was all set up, with big TV screens, a red carpet, the works. And it was empty. Maybe 1,000 people, total? We were shocked. We waited and waited, then, Pinera arrived, and he shook hands, kissed babies, the works. But as soon as he got up to the balcony to speak, people starting leaving. Really? Your new president is giving his first speech and you're walking away? It was so disrespectful, we couldn't believe it! You would never leave if Obama was speaking! Never. People said everyone was scared and didn't want to leave their house. Understandable. But still, the whole thing seemed pretty odd.

Lauren: People's nerves are still on edge from earthquake No. 1, and this one just scared people who were already really sad and scared. I understand if they don't want to be outside. They want to be safe, and so did we. I was so happy to be back in our little apartment on Merced I didn't want to leave. But it was historic, so we ventured over to Moneda to watch a bit of the speech, which was fine. We got our pictures, we witnesses something few other Chileans saw first hand. Cool, now let's go back home.

Aneya: All in all, one of the craziest days we've had here.

Lauren: It was certainly something.

-- Aneya & Lauren