Last night was my host dad's birthday.
In celebration, we watched Kindergarten cop, dubbed in Spanish. Then my host mom served a great dinner, followed by drinks and cake.
The movie.
The Spanish "Ahhnold Schwarzeneggar" had a ridiculously meaty accent, por supuesto. Kids and car chases, bad nineties fashion, and a sappy ending to boot - needless to say, my host dad loved it. Who knew subpar American humor (with a subpar Austrian actor) would translate so well?
The drinks.
My host mom made pisco sours, a famous beverage around these parts. Pisco is a liquor made from distilling grapes, and it mixes roughly like whiskey. The pisco sour is composed of pisco, lime juice, sugar, egg white, and bitters. You'd love it. Muy delicioso.
The cake.
It's called "mil hojas," or a thousand pages, because it has many thin layers of phyllo dough. Apparently this was to be another installment in the comedic offerings of the night, as I was given a teaspoon with which to eat it. Everyone else got forks. Strange, eh? Probably not as strange as I looked trying to navigate a very stubborn piece of cake. It was like using a small, dull spoon to eat pieces of paper glued together with sugar and brandy. Don't get me wrong, the cake was delicious. I just didn't have the proper implements. As I laid waste to the beauty that was my piece of cake, I would glance around furtively, wondering if anyone else noticed how awkwardly I was eating.
I strongly suspect they gave me the spoon for a good laugh later. But the question remains, am I as funny as a bodybuilder surrounded by six year olds? Well, I think I could give Arnie a run for the money.
So far my Chilean experience bodes well for a career in bone-headedness/universal comedy...
No comments:
Post a Comment