MeMag - Me Magazine

After three weeks alone I had gotten fairly deep into a black pool of low self-esteem. And aggression. Every time I thought of M it was with more and more anger. Slowly I was convincing myself that the girls were both conspiring against me. basically to get money. When I finally did call M I was expecting her to start some argument. But she was nice. Before calling I tried to check if I had the right number, in mortal fear of having to talk to my daughter on the phone once again. I sat with the phone in my hand for maybe twenty minutes before finally calling.

I suggested that I would go to their house, knowing that the chances of E17 bothering to go anywhere to meet me might be slim. In other words, if I didn’t go to their house, I probably wouldn’t get to see her one last time before leaving. Also I needed to drop off the guitar which I had re-stringed and adjusted for slim feminine fingers. On my way over I lapsed back into these aggressive thoughts that keep coming back to me.

The girls had ordered pizza. I had a stomach ache but ate a slice anyway to be social. We talked a little and then we all went upstairs so that they could watch TV. This was my second time watching TV with them and I have to say that these times in front of the screen making comments at really awful reality shows and game shows and whatnot has been the most if not only completely relaxed moments with my family. I felt happy.

Of course… one would perhaps have wished that after traveling to the other side of the world to see these people, that they would do something with me except watch TV, or that they at least would have provided me with a proper chair to sit on instead of the tiny uncomfortable metal stool. But oh well.

Susy and her boyfriend showed up to collect me. It was nice but it terminated my social participation. With the new people around the table, I ended up sitting down by myself in the sofa a little away from them. I suppose I could have found an extra chair. At the time I felt that there was no room for me. I can never adjust to being with more than 2 people at the same time. They were all talking about something. I couldn’t understand very much of it and I felt that I didn’t belong there at all.

E17 suddenly brought out a deck of cards I had sent her long ago and started shuffling them. It seemed to me to be some sort of a gesture towards me. She also said something about learning magic tricks, but I couldn’t hear what it was from where I was sitting. I could have asked what she said, but I didn’t, which I regretted later. I happen to be quite knowledgeable about card magic. I could have taught her something.

Everyone went upstairs again to look at something. E17 stayed. For a while we were alone and I tried to make conversation with her which resulted in her calling her mom. Poor girl. I obviously make her very uncomfortable.

The last moment of awkward goodbyes finally had to be faced. Just for a few seconds everyone else stepped away a little and left E17 and me in peace. I told her to take care of herself and that I loved her. She mumbled something. We hugged and I managed to somehow pet her on the head like a dog. Not quite what I had set out to do. I then mumbled too and promptly stepped on her bare foot which must have been quite painful, apologized and slid out the door feeling like an idiot.

The next morning I went to the airport alone and left Chile.

Many dishes come with a salad on the side. You now have opportunity to enter into a chaotic argument over what vegetables you wish to have and what they actually have in the kitchen. Forget that. Instead, simply say “Chilena”. This will give you a salad consisting of pieces of peeled tomatoes, washed onion slices and cilantro (coriander). An excellent combination.

This will be served with salt, vinegar and vegetable oil. And you will get some cred for being a foreigner who knows something about their dishes.

A Chilean salad

And then one day I found myself in another female conspiracy. I had called my friend at the embassy, wanting to meet her to give her a few things I wouldn’t be able to carry home with me. The embassy isn’t very far from where I live. She didn’t have time to see me at work however and asked me to come to her house instead, which is not very close.

I went and it didn’t take more than an hour to get there. Seconds after I arrived she was on the phone with her friend who happens to be the same woman who suddenly kissed me the last time I was there and who has been calling me and sending me messages. Now she was on her way. I was slightly annoyed and didn’t know if I should say something directly about it or not. After all the woman was already in transit so me complaining about it wasn’t going to change anything.

She arrived apparently surprised that I was there. She called it “fate”. I would have picked another word. The hostess then suddenly had to leave to take a shower and I was left alone with my admirer, who I actually didn’t even remember what looked like from the last time. I just remembered the type. She asked me how old I was and then told me that she was older than me. That part I had already figured out for myself. We talked. I was polite bordering on charming. I am after all going home in a couple of days,

Earlier in the day I had been having a few beers with the owners of my favorite café. The plan was that I was going to return there after my visit at my friend’s house. I therefore had an excuse to leave early. Bust since my defective phone never managed to connect itself to anything, I never did get to continue my beer drinking with the café gang.

It had been over two weeks since I last saw E17. I hadn’t heard a word from her mother either. Finally I forced myself to call her again, knowing that it would be another uncomfortable conversation. And it was. All morning I was dreading my upcoming mission. I picked up the phone, put it down again, thought about what to say, waited for midday when teenagers slowly start to wake up.

She answered. I said hello and told her who was calling. Fairly polite I thought since people never do that here. The person answering is supposed to be completely confused for the first minute before finally asking who the hell he’s talking to. That is norm.

I went on to tell her that I would like to see her again if possible. How would she feel about that? Silence. Not a sound in response. I started to panic and said something else, I think, just to see if anyone was still there. but there was still no reply. Was the phone even working? I had charged it before calling to make sure that it wouldn’t cut off in mid conversation. “Hello?” I finally asked. Nothing. I said hello again and she answered “hello” in her deadpan telephone voice.

I then went into a nervous unplanned explanation of how my phone was probably acting up because I couldn’t hear what she said. But had she said anything really? More silence. I felt completely confused. I said hello again and there was no answer. Had she simply hung up? I waited and repeated the hello. Nothing. I pressed the red button and really felt relieved that it had ended.

But I knew I had to call back. Some fifteen minutes later I was in a call center in a booth trying the number again, having first been assured by the lady that my number would work from that cabin without adding any prefixes or anything. I dialed and a recording said something about how the subscriber could not be reached at this time. Had she yanked the chord out of the wall? Who knows.

I then wrote her a long email explaining how I know that a meeting would probably include awkward silences but that it would be better than not trying. I’m leaving in a week today, I wrote. I also added that I wouldn’t think any less of her if she didn’t feel up to meeting me. I also assured her that I wouldn’t keep calling if it really frightens her so. If she will agree to see me she will have to give some hint, such as replying to the email, sending an SMS or asking Susy or her mother to tell me so. Which she will never do.

An “Italian” sandwich here is Chile is a sandwich containing mayonnaise, slices of tomatoes and avocado, usually mashed. This of course has nothing to do with Italy itself, but refers to the fact that if you are on drugs, the colors of this sandwich vaguely resemble those of the Italian flag.

Anything can be “Italiano”. The combination works with everything unhealthy and can therefore be found in any place which serves greasy food, from restaurants to gas stations. And it’s great.

Of course… even though this is one of the best known food concepts here, a Chilean waiter is still likely to ask you “do you want mayonnaise with that? … do you want tomatoes with that?… and do you want avocado with that?” Just keep saying yes but under no circumstances must you attempt to change the formula. I have done the mistake twice now of trying to get them to add onions as well. “Just a little please”. They will ask you if you want raw or cooked onion. A reasonable question. But when your sandwich arrives, they will have covered it so completely in onion that you may not even find the rest of it.

Work with the menu, not against it.

A wonderful Churrasco Italiano at the Valle de Oro (Valley of Gold) restaurant. The photo may not be impressive but this was the best sandwich I have ever had in Chile.

A Wiener here in Chile is not a proper sausage like in Europe, but a long skinless cocktailweiner without taste. But not to worry. In this case it’s “Italiano” so the disappointing sausage taste is safely masked by a nice thick layer of calories.

Since it was getting really dark, I had to return by the road and not the narrow path I had arrived on. The road was broad but unlit and it took a really long time to get back down to the city. It was a strange experience walking there alone in darkness with the endless carpet of lights underneath me.

At one point all the sounds of the city were completely muted. I could see the cars but there was no sound of traffic whatsoever. The only sounds that could be heard was that of barking dogs. Nothing but millions of lights and a lot of barking dogs. It felt like the first time during my trip that I was really experiencing something memorable.

And so it has been decided that E17 will start her university career in March. She has signed up for industrial design. A five year study. So I guess I can stop redecorating that room for her back home. I will most likely not see her before her wedding, which I’m sure will take place within the next few years, going by local customs.

Susy told me that she was going to go out and have Sushi with E17 and discuss her future. She asked me if I wanted to come, to which I replied “yes”. I then spent the afternoon waiting for her call to let me know where and when, but when she finally called at 10PM it was to tell me that they had eaten already and had planned to come over and see me, but that E17 was too tired now. I didn’t know what to say. Much later when Susy returned I wanted to ask her what the hell just happened but she immediately put on the stereo very loud when she came in the door and started dancing wildly. I dragged my depressed old carcass back to my room.

The next day I accidentally met M and her nephew “Panco” in the market. I was having a good time hanging around the guys who sell pirated “cine arte” movies, i.e. non-Hollywood films basically. They even have Norwegian films there. And all the customers are film buffs who stand around discussing films they have seen. It’s just a group of guys standing under a tree with a backpack filled with movies on the ground between them. I finally found a conversation where I had something to contribute. When I left everybody shook my hand and said goodbye like we were old friends.

I then went with M to their house under the guise of having to pick up my package which finally had arrived the day before. First I said that I might not open it there since I had to carry it all home afterwards anyway, and M became irritated. I was just thinking out loud when I said it, pondering whether to open it or not. She was obviously dying of curiosity as to what the big box continued. Sensing this I jokingly maintained that no… best not open it now. And she became more and more annoyed until she straight out demanded that I open it. So finally I did. By then she had exhausted every possible argument including her having a legal right to know what it contained and me allegedly having promised her something therein. All deadly serious. Talk about curiosity.

The box appeared to have been subjected to one of those presses they use for crushing cars, but most of the content was still perfectly OK except for all the chocolates that had melted long ago and morphed into white twisted shapes. In any case I got to see E17. I tried to ask her about the university but she seemed uninterested in talking about it. M brought up the cost again but with no room for a serious discussion about it.

What they expect from me exactly, is $400 a month. This much I have been told. A sum which may grow eventually as each year at the University has different monthly costs. I did try to bring up the fact that I cannot guarantee them that amount of cash for five years, but there was no willingness to discuss it. M made a joke about me selling my kidneys, but I know she would really expect me to do that if it came to it. I don’t know what to do now. Maybe I’ll just have to stop sending money without any explanation when the time comes. It’s not as much as I had feared but when you don’t have it you don’t have it.

I can’t help but wonder how many thousand I have paid so far for each minute I have gotten to see E17. Quite frankly I feel that I’ve been getting a bad deal. I don’t have maternal instincts. The kid is a stranger to me, more or less. I want to get to know her, but if it’s a strictly pay for view arrangement, I’m no longer sure that I feel like subscribing. I’m simply not getting enough for my money.

I feel trapped. This total unwillingness to include me in anything. Nobody asked me if I would be able to support such an education scheme. All I get is “you better pay”. I’m starting to understand men who just give up and desert their families altogether. Men who are not heard. Men who are bad fathers no matter what they try to do. Men who are human cash machines for women who want to raise children their own way. It’s like a fight that will only end with a knockout. Or when someone throws in the towel. I have a towel and I’m becoming ever more curious about it’s aerodynamic abilities. Some fights cannot be won it seems.

As it started to get dark quickly on my mountain, I realized that I needed to get going if I was to find my way back down. Already it was getting too dark to find the footpath.

As I shot this, three tiny girls in beautiful dresses and with perfectly braided hair approached me cautiously. Most likely the daughters of some caretaker living there. Behind me they were practicing English words they had picked up: “restroom… rest…room”. Finally one of them dared to say “hello” in a nervous voice. “Hello”, I replied. They came over and stood next to me for a while. Nobody dared to say anything else and the conversation ended there.

Here I have a bit of postcard kitch for you. After successfully climbing the mountain, I discovered what was to be found on the other side of it: More Santiago! The city seems endless.

Spotted in: Santiago
Message: Unknown

When I first saw this nervous little pig in a different location late the previous night, I immediately identified with it. And I took it’s picture. The next day however, it suddenly appeared again and I was able to get a better shot of it.

I set out on an expedition to climb a small mountain, one of the big hills that are like islands in the middle of the sea of city lights. As the sun set, my surroundings suddenly took on a serene rural appearance.

I suppose that only a complete idiot would photograph a black dog in an unlit street at night, but still… I was able to borrow a (ridiculously unsteady) tripod and got carried away

A nice pastel colored house in the Bellavista barrio

Chileans don’t like to put hot spices into their food. But they do often eat the spices before the actual meal! As you wait for your restaurant order a small basket of bread will usually be placed on your table and along with it various condiments such as mayonnaise, oil and vinegar and fresh squeezable lemon halves. And Pebre.

There are just about as many recipes for Pebre in Chile as there are families. Tourist guide books will typically tell you that Pebre is intended as a condiment for grilled meats, however I have never seen any Chileans use it for anything else than an appetizer to go with bread. I myself use it with meat and fried eggs and on sandwiches and everything else.

Freshly made Pebre isn’t actually extremely hot. But left overnight it starts to turn deadly and by the third day it will have become extremely spicy. But still good.

Version one, the baby variety:

There is no point to detailed measures when making Pebre. It is not an exact science. As the picture below shows for instance, here tomatoes can be several times bigger than lemons. What you want to aim for is the right look more than the exactly right measures. For this version, see the above photo for visual reference.

About half a bunch of fresh cilantro (aka coriander). Chop finely.
1 1/2 large tomatoes. Chop finely. What you want is a somewhat mushy consistency.
1/2 a large onion, finely chopped. No piece should be much bigger than the head of a match.
Some finely chopped green chili. Half of a big one or two tiny ones.
Two tablespoons of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. (Chileans cannot actually afford to use this and typically use cheap vegetable oils instead, but Extra Virgin is better.)
1 good pinch of salt
One squeeze of lemon juice or alternatively a teaspoon of any white wine, Balsamico or rice vinegar.
4-5 tablespoons of boiling water. (The above photo does not have added water)

Version two, the hottest and best variety:

This requires the addition of freshly blended Aji chilis. Some vegetable dealers will have small plastic baggies or jars of such sauce (as seen in the photo below). Alternatively you could add a little commercial chili sauce, such as Sambal, but it’s not quite the same as fresh blended peppers.

Everything else exactly as above, but leave out the water and do not use vinegar. Add the chili sauce until mixture is red.

The vegetables used in yesterdays bowl of condiment

The end results: a big bowl of the world’s best Pebre.

A car parked just outside my door

The street next to mine