I'll start off by apologizing to my blogochochillas for not posting anything in a while. I've been sort of busy, because apparently my professors actually want me to work on this 20 page essay. I'm not sure when this event happened, except that it was a random Tuesday night some weeks ago. Antonio, my fellow West Pointer, Jordan, our ROTC amigo, and I were told that we needed to be at the main auditorium for a concert that night. This might strike you as odd, but these random pieces of entertainment are quite common here. The other day we had one that was a sort of literary quiz bowl between the six cadet companies. We also got to see one of our Chilean friends prance about dressed as none other than Bernado O'Higgins, the liberator of Chile. But I digress.
We arrived at the concert, Antonio and I wearing our formal West Point uniforms and Jordan wearing his Class As. So there we were, waiting for the concert to begin, when this Chilean officer approaches us and casually tells us that there will be a three star general there who wants to talk with us. Now, I generally like to have at least a heads up about this thing before I leave my room. This would give me time to shave again, shine my shoes, and whatnot. This time, I didn't have the opportunity to do that, so my friends and I just looked each other for anything to fix before we went to meet this general. At that point, we realized that there wasn't just going to be one general, but that there was going to be a whole slew of military officer. The concert was entertainment for a conference of Pacific nations like Japan, New Zealand, Chile, America, and others. So we tried to enjoy the concert and not think about meeting this entire delegation of officers.
Once the concert was over, the school presented an award to the three star general who we were going to meet. He accepted the award and as he was walking off the stage, he saw us sitting in the front row and pointed to us as he left. There would be no avoiding this interaction. We headed to the area behind the auditorium where all the officers were relaxing, drinking cocktails and whatnot. A bunch of officers started talking to us, but it wasn't long before some West Point grads grabbed us and had us take a picture with a West Point two star general. In doing this, they exiled Jordan to talk to some foreign officers and second lieutenants. So we talked to them for a while and we all got some generals coins. Everybody was actually pretty laid back and nobody pointed out anything wrong with our uniforms or haircuts, which is always good. They were passing around Pisco Sour and all manner of snacks, but I decided it would be best not to drink around a bunch of generals, coronels, and Special Forces officers, of which there were quite a few. I guess I still have a problem with drinking around officers. Hopefully, it's just a phase.
Everyone we talked to was pretty intent on making sure were understood how important it was to make connections in the school so we could "climb the ladder". They kept mentioning how the people we were living with in the school would be the leaders of the army and how that would help us "climb the ladder". One guy mentioned how if we joined Special Forces we would be able to "climb the ladder" to some "really fun places". Alright, they might not have said the phrase "climb the ladder" that much, but the overall impression I got was that they were career oriented people, which would explain why they were all Foreign Area Officers and embassy people. We also talked to a guy from the Canadian army and a woman from Australia. At the end of the night, they staggered off to their bus drunk. I guess you could say it was a really interactive, cultural experience.
Normally, I'm just content to drink Pisco.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Viña del Mar
The next day we woke up for our trip to the coast and the city of Viña del Mar. Antonio, Jaña, his cousin, and I jumped in a car and made the hour long journey to the sea. When we got there, we found the apartment of another one of our friends where we were going to spend the night and dropped of our bags. After eating some pizza, we walked along the beach, which mind you is freezing this time of year. We checked out some sand sculptures and walked through the mall. As it started to get dark, we stopped by a supermarket and bought pisco, coke, and rum. Doing all of this involved climbing millions of stone steps up from the area near the beach. We got back to the apartment and once again began imbibing Pisco.
We drank for a while, talking about subjects of no great importance. In all honesty, I didn't really understand what we were talking about, but I was getting my slant on, so it was alright. We ordered another pizza so that we wouldn't die out there at the disco. After rapidly consuming the pizza, we headed out to the combat.
We rolled on up to The Huevo, a club that featured multiple floors and two different dance floors with two different types of music on each floor. Unfortunately for us, the earthquake caused all but two of the floors to be closed. Anyway, we paid the 8 or 9 dollars to get into the club, which left me broke. It didn't take long before we found a group of girls to dance with. Viña del Mar and Rancagua differ from Santiago in that most of the girls in those places actually want to dance with dudes.
I don't have a whole lot to say about my experiences in the disco. I spent the entirety of the night dancing with one girl, a History major who actually lives in Santiago and bears a passing resemblance to Owen Wilson, which is generally unfortunate. At one point, we went down to a level where they were playing Bohemian Rhapsody. When she tried to sing in English, it sounded like the ends of broken bones rubbing together. Other than those small details, we had fun dancing and talking. Eventually she left, and shortly thereafter, we left.
Apparently the entire population of Viña was trying to eat at McDonald's, so we had to look for one that wasn't too crowded. In a moment of hubris, Antonio suggested that we get Double Quarter-pounders, and such was our hunger that we consented. So we ate our hamburgers looking out towards the moonlit water of the Pacific Ocean, no longer drunk on account of not having enough money to buy more alcohol. We finished eating, made it back to the apartment and went to sleep.
I think it was about an hour later that I awoke with the sensation of being way too full. For about 10 minutes, I struggled between trying not to soil myself or vomit. I brought strong sack and managed to keep either thing from happening, and then went to sleep, cursing the Double Quarter-pounders the entire time.
We drank for a while, talking about subjects of no great importance. In all honesty, I didn't really understand what we were talking about, but I was getting my slant on, so it was alright. We ordered another pizza so that we wouldn't die out there at the disco. After rapidly consuming the pizza, we headed out to the combat.
We rolled on up to The Huevo, a club that featured multiple floors and two different dance floors with two different types of music on each floor. Unfortunately for us, the earthquake caused all but two of the floors to be closed. Anyway, we paid the 8 or 9 dollars to get into the club, which left me broke. It didn't take long before we found a group of girls to dance with. Viña del Mar and Rancagua differ from Santiago in that most of the girls in those places actually want to dance with dudes.
I don't have a whole lot to say about my experiences in the disco. I spent the entirety of the night dancing with one girl, a History major who actually lives in Santiago and bears a passing resemblance to Owen Wilson, which is generally unfortunate. At one point, we went down to a level where they were playing Bohemian Rhapsody. When she tried to sing in English, it sounded like the ends of broken bones rubbing together. Other than those small details, we had fun dancing and talking. Eventually she left, and shortly thereafter, we left.
Apparently the entire population of Viña was trying to eat at McDonald's, so we had to look for one that wasn't too crowded. In a moment of hubris, Antonio suggested that we get Double Quarter-pounders, and such was our hunger that we consented. So we ate our hamburgers looking out towards the moonlit water of the Pacific Ocean, no longer drunk on account of not having enough money to buy more alcohol. We finished eating, made it back to the apartment and went to sleep.
I think it was about an hour later that I awoke with the sensation of being way too full. For about 10 minutes, I struggled between trying not to soil myself or vomit. I brought strong sack and managed to keep either thing from happening, and then went to sleep, cursing the Double Quarter-pounders the entire time.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Thursday Night in Rancagua
Alright, I'm going to try and wrap up this whole Rancagua trip series of posts, considering it's been two or three weeks since we were even there.
So there I was. Rancagua. Thursday Night. I had been told that this would be the big night of "combat". And it was. We started off by heading to Jañà's cousins house to pick him up. I assumed that we were going back to Jaña's place on account of it being about 4 in the afternoon, but I was completely wrong (this happens often). All of a sudden, we're parking in front of the disco. This confuses me because it's now about 5 o'clock and we haven't eaten dinner yet. This doesn't matter to the people of Rancagua though, because when we get into the disco, it's packed. We meet up with the girls that we had met previously and we get some Cristal or Escudo (the beer so bad that everyone mixes it with Fanta).
We seemingly danced for hours, or maybe we actually danced for hours, I'm not really sure. I didn't really look at my watch a whole lot and ended up keeping my eyes closed for alot of the time that we were dancing. Fill in the blanks, dear reader. Point being, an awesome time was being had by all. Then, the girls left and we entered the down phase of the night. I was starting to get hungry and Antonio and I were lobbying for a trip to McDonald's. We ordered some fries. It took roughly 30 minutes to make and it was no Cuarto de Libra (Quarter Pounder). So we continued to hang around, talking to some mean girls. We finally left, taking the mean girls with us (not with us, as in Antonio and I). So, after traveling with 6 people in a 5 seater car for a little bit, we picked up another car and set off to God-knows-where. You can see that there's this recurring theme of me being in cars with unknown destinations. So after passing up all the McDonald's in Chile, we bought some Pisco and Coke (just what I needed right then) and set off for a park.
So there we were, being sketchy, freezing, drinking in a park, and making friends with canine passers-by. As I consumed Piscola, I thought less about my hunger and more about nothing. After finishing off the bottle of Pisco, we hopped back in our cars and drove off to the next adventure. We arrived at the Punta del Este (East Point) and walked in. We purchased another bottle of Pisco and began drinking, as we watched people singing karaoke. Now, generally, when karaoke is present, you should slow your drinking down. However, I did not. At some point, I was thrust forward by my friends, and Jaña's cousin and I asked the karaoke operators to find us an English song for me to sing. A small man in the back of my mind was screaming about how bad of an idea this was, but he was violently ignored. We returned to our friends, continued drinking and moving about until finally, the karaoke operator signaled us forward. We grabbed the microphones, looked at the screen, and began singing. Much to my dismay, the lyrics were not in English and did not belong to an English song. As the DJ realized what was happening, I saw him approach us with a look on his face that said, "You are not a good singer. Furthermore, you do not speak Spanish." He asked me where I was from, and I said, with great pride and directly into the microphone "Los Estados Unidos". He the took the microphones away from us and walked back on to the stage.
You'd think that I would have been hurt by this. Far in the back of my head, that small man, drowned in Pisco, said something about being embarassed. He was ignored however, as I had entered what is known to some as "The Golden Zone" What it means is that I was awesome. In the words of cartoonist Brad Neely, "I was important, and funny, and helpful and seemingly rich, and I had the body of a heavy lifter." The curtain behind the stage rose and revealed a dance floor and a second bar. We burst forward and danced with an exuberance that can only be fueled by Pisco or insanity. I was dancing with everyone, sometimes two at a time. So all this was happening, and I was feeling great. Then, all of a sudden, I felt sobriety hit me in the face like a wet fish, and I knew that the night was about to turn ugly.
All of a sudden I realized how hungry I was. I tried to keep up the dancing, but I was no longer the awesome guy I had been seconds ago. I danced with a seemingly mute 30 year old woman, who would only guesture wildly at my friends for them to join us. They pulled me away from the situation like a man being pulled from a burning vehicle. I wandered about, trying to bring strong sack and overcome my hunger and fatigue, but I couldn't. We stayed there until the place closed, then we all piled back into somebody's car. We once again passed up all the McDonald's in Chile. We made it back to Jaña's house. There wasn't any way to get food from downstairs, so I ate two handfuls of Coco Puffs, drank three handfulls of tap water, and willed myself asleep. By the way, if you measure food and drink in handfulls, you're doing something wrong.
So there I was. Rancagua. Thursday Night. I had been told that this would be the big night of "combat". And it was. We started off by heading to Jañà's cousins house to pick him up. I assumed that we were going back to Jaña's place on account of it being about 4 in the afternoon, but I was completely wrong (this happens often). All of a sudden, we're parking in front of the disco. This confuses me because it's now about 5 o'clock and we haven't eaten dinner yet. This doesn't matter to the people of Rancagua though, because when we get into the disco, it's packed. We meet up with the girls that we had met previously and we get some Cristal or Escudo (the beer so bad that everyone mixes it with Fanta).
We seemingly danced for hours, or maybe we actually danced for hours, I'm not really sure. I didn't really look at my watch a whole lot and ended up keeping my eyes closed for alot of the time that we were dancing. Fill in the blanks, dear reader. Point being, an awesome time was being had by all. Then, the girls left and we entered the down phase of the night. I was starting to get hungry and Antonio and I were lobbying for a trip to McDonald's. We ordered some fries. It took roughly 30 minutes to make and it was no Cuarto de Libra (Quarter Pounder). So we continued to hang around, talking to some mean girls. We finally left, taking the mean girls with us (not with us, as in Antonio and I). So, after traveling with 6 people in a 5 seater car for a little bit, we picked up another car and set off to God-knows-where. You can see that there's this recurring theme of me being in cars with unknown destinations. So after passing up all the McDonald's in Chile, we bought some Pisco and Coke (just what I needed right then) and set off for a park.
So there we were, being sketchy, freezing, drinking in a park, and making friends with canine passers-by. As I consumed Piscola, I thought less about my hunger and more about nothing. After finishing off the bottle of Pisco, we hopped back in our cars and drove off to the next adventure. We arrived at the Punta del Este (East Point) and walked in. We purchased another bottle of Pisco and began drinking, as we watched people singing karaoke. Now, generally, when karaoke is present, you should slow your drinking down. However, I did not. At some point, I was thrust forward by my friends, and Jaña's cousin and I asked the karaoke operators to find us an English song for me to sing. A small man in the back of my mind was screaming about how bad of an idea this was, but he was violently ignored. We returned to our friends, continued drinking and moving about until finally, the karaoke operator signaled us forward. We grabbed the microphones, looked at the screen, and began singing. Much to my dismay, the lyrics were not in English and did not belong to an English song. As the DJ realized what was happening, I saw him approach us with a look on his face that said, "You are not a good singer. Furthermore, you do not speak Spanish." He asked me where I was from, and I said, with great pride and directly into the microphone "Los Estados Unidos". He the took the microphones away from us and walked back on to the stage.
You'd think that I would have been hurt by this. Far in the back of my head, that small man, drowned in Pisco, said something about being embarassed. He was ignored however, as I had entered what is known to some as "The Golden Zone" What it means is that I was awesome. In the words of cartoonist Brad Neely, "I was important, and funny, and helpful and seemingly rich, and I had the body of a heavy lifter." The curtain behind the stage rose and revealed a dance floor and a second bar. We burst forward and danced with an exuberance that can only be fueled by Pisco or insanity. I was dancing with everyone, sometimes two at a time. So all this was happening, and I was feeling great. Then, all of a sudden, I felt sobriety hit me in the face like a wet fish, and I knew that the night was about to turn ugly.
All of a sudden I realized how hungry I was. I tried to keep up the dancing, but I was no longer the awesome guy I had been seconds ago. I danced with a seemingly mute 30 year old woman, who would only guesture wildly at my friends for them to join us. They pulled me away from the situation like a man being pulled from a burning vehicle. I wandered about, trying to bring strong sack and overcome my hunger and fatigue, but I couldn't. We stayed there until the place closed, then we all piled back into somebody's car. We once again passed up all the McDonald's in Chile. We made it back to Jaña's house. There wasn't any way to get food from downstairs, so I ate two handfuls of Coco Puffs, drank three handfulls of tap water, and willed myself asleep. By the way, if you measure food and drink in handfulls, you're doing something wrong.
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