This weekend is Chile's Bicentennial.
Most students (exceptin' us gringos, d'ere) get a whole week off from school, and nearly all workers get Friday and Monday off in honor of Chile's 200 years of independence.
So this is a big deal.
We're partying like it was 1976 in Washington, D.C., except it's 2010 and we are in Santiago.
And the preparation for this holiday has been phenomenal.
There are Chilean flags everywhere. Flags on buildings and cars, t-shirts and hats, clutched in the sticky hands of ice-cream eating three-year-olds, and probably a flag or two tattooed somewhere on your body, while you weren't paying attention. Why not a tattoo? You only turn 200 once, right?*
*Disclaimer: Mom & Dad, no, I have not gotten a tattoo. FYI.
At the supermarkers, everyone is stocking up like the apocalypse is approaching, and the supplies we will need most will be bread, empanadas, and beer.
Yesterday I walked in on my host parents cutting each other's hair, primping for the festivities.
I caught my host dad dusting the numbers on our apartment door, making sure everything is just so for Chile's 200th birthday.
My host parents also broke out the silk pajamas. Extra fancy.
This morning, I awoke to the curtains being thrown open, my host mom hustling me into the kitchen to eat breakfast. She was in a hurry because we wanted to watch the raising of the 200 kilo Chilean flag at La Moneda, the national palace.
And so I went with my host parents and our resident doctor, Lili, to downtown Santiago. All three of them are barely 5 feet tall, so I looked like a very bizarre body guard. But once we got into the middle of the crowd at La Moneda, I didn't feel so conspicuous. In fact, I felt a little like a Chilean. We were chanting and cheering as the flag rose and fighter jets flew above us (C-H-I-L-E, Chi-Chi-Chi, Le-Le-Le, Viva Chile!!)
I feel like the luckiest son-of-a-gun to be here during the Bicentennial. Happy Birthday, Chile!
But I guess we ain't seen nothing yet, as tomorrow is The Big Day, September 18th, the day Chile declared independence.
(I have been warned to fortify my stomach in anticipation of a lot of meat and empanadas.)
I'll keep you informed.
This feels like the beginning of summer.
And the 4th of July.
And Christmas morning.
And the Jerry Springer Show.
Most students (exceptin' us gringos, d'ere) get a whole week off from school, and nearly all workers get Friday and Monday off in honor of Chile's 200 years of independence.
So this is a big deal.
We're partying like it was 1976 in Washington, D.C., except it's 2010 and we are in Santiago.
And the preparation for this holiday has been phenomenal.
There are Chilean flags everywhere. Flags on buildings and cars, t-shirts and hats, clutched in the sticky hands of ice-cream eating three-year-olds, and probably a flag or two tattooed somewhere on your body, while you weren't paying attention. Why not a tattoo? You only turn 200 once, right?*
*Disclaimer: Mom & Dad, no, I have not gotten a tattoo. FYI.
At the supermarkers, everyone is stocking up like the apocalypse is approaching, and the supplies we will need most will be bread, empanadas, and beer.
Yesterday I walked in on my host parents cutting each other's hair, primping for the festivities.
I caught my host dad dusting the numbers on our apartment door, making sure everything is just so for Chile's 200th birthday.
My host parents also broke out the silk pajamas. Extra fancy.
This morning, I awoke to the curtains being thrown open, my host mom hustling me into the kitchen to eat breakfast. She was in a hurry because we wanted to watch the raising of the 200 kilo Chilean flag at La Moneda, the national palace.
And so I went with my host parents and our resident doctor, Lili, to downtown Santiago. All three of them are barely 5 feet tall, so I looked like a very bizarre body guard. But once we got into the middle of the crowd at La Moneda, I didn't feel so conspicuous. In fact, I felt a little like a Chilean. We were chanting and cheering as the flag rose and fighter jets flew above us (C-H-I-L-E, Chi-Chi-Chi, Le-Le-Le, Viva Chile!!)
I feel like the luckiest son-of-a-gun to be here during the Bicentennial. Happy Birthday, Chile!
But I guess we ain't seen nothing yet, as tomorrow is The Big Day, September 18th, the day Chile declared independence.
(I have been warned to fortify my stomach in anticipation of a lot of meat and empanadas.)
I'll keep you informed.
This feels like the beginning of summer.
And the 4th of July.
And Christmas morning.
And the Jerry Springer Show.
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