Halloween Loot de Chile

So you know how when you go trick-or-treating on Halloween, you end up with a pillow case full of loot? There`s the good stuff, the gross stuff, the mandtatory-Halloween-experience stuff, and the other stuff, all thrown together into one big pillow case (or for all you lesser. . . *cough*. . . i mean other trick-or-treaters, a bag or tiny little pumpkin thingy). Well, this is my pillow case full of my Halloween Loot De Chile. Or in other words, my disconcordant thoughts that I am somehow going to relate to Halloween in order to give them some sort of consistent thread.

ALMOND JOY (the "do I really want to tell anyone about you because you're so good and there are so few of you. I'm not sure if I want to share this part of my loot" candy)
Now don't go getting too excited. I'm not about to spill any mushy details from some recent love affair. Especially because the only action I've had down here are my daily kisses and cuddles from Minnie. The dog. But I've very content with Minnie. She's an excellent snuggle buddy.

No, what I wanted to write here is that I don't really know exactly what this blog has become for me, and I feel like that might be something I should figure out. I should figure out how much I want to share on the "world wide web" (as someone over 45 would put it), and how much I should save for e-mails I can control who reads. I think I forget that people actually read this thing. Even people I don't know personally (wierd, but true). But the other part of me is saying, "Lila, nobody wants to read a censored version of your adventures. Where's the fun in that?"

So I guess what I want to say is that I want to formall announce that I'm not writing for anyone. I'm writing for me. For my own personal enjoyment, because I love writing, and to document my travels. And I love that this is a forum that allows you all to travel with me. But, that being said, I'm not going to censor myself or leave out parts out of concern for "my readers." But you should remember that this is me that we're talking about. Now that I've said that I'm "uncensored", it's not like I'm going to start writing about stip clubs or start dropping F-bombs everywhere. This will still probably be a PG blog or at worst PG-13. I just wanted to give you a heads up.

THE TOOTHBRUSH (the "cleaning up the day after" candy. . . that obviuosly isn't really candy)
So back to the whole "Sex on the Beach" fiasco. There have been some friendly accusations that I was asking for the misinterpretation by the way that I formatted that blog. What I was hoping for with that format was that if you glanced at it, you would say, WHAT??, but then if you actually read it in context you would realize that I was obviously talking about the drink. My bad.

CANDY CORN (the "mandatory experience" candy)
So I thought I would take this candy space to talk about some mandatory Chilean experiences. The first is, since we're talking about candies, the Super8. Pronounced "Super Ocho," not "Super Eight." I don't really know what the big deal is about them. I don't think that they're amazing, but apparently they are. They are chocolate covered . . . flakey things. Similar to a kit kat. Do you know those cookies that come in vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry? Maybe not. Well, it's chocolate covered that. Anyways, this is already more time than I wanted to be spending on Super 8s. Moving on.

Another mandatory Chilean (or any foreign country) experience: screwing up your words. So far, I have said that I wanted to ride a gentleman (I meant to say horse), I was from the United Students (meant to say states), asked someone that was almost done with school if he was sexually stimulated (meant to say just normal excited), and somehow insulted the entire female gender (meant to say . . . I actually have no idea what I was trying to say). Live and learn, right?

Mandatory Chilean Experience #3: (side note, I had to press the "Alt" button and the 3 to get that # sign. These computers are so weird). Biting into a salad that you think consists of one vegetable visible vegetable - clerary or onions or lettuce or carrots any other singular vegetable - and finding that the vegetable is not alone. No, it is accompanied by enough lemon juice, vinegar, and salt to make. . . smomething do something. I can't really think of anything right now. Sorry.

APPLE (the "real food that isn't candy that you're a little bit unsure about because there could be blades in it or whatevwer - do people really do that? - but you know that it has the potential to be the best thing in your bag of loot, so you're very tempted to eat it anyways" candy)
Awhie ago in a random conversation about food, I mentioned that I thought the whole "just bread and water" thing in jail wouldn't really be so bad. After a lot of thought, and a lot of bread, I've come to the not-very-surprising conlusion that I was right. (Ha! Bet you weren't expecting that one). Here in Chile, they have two food grops: bread, and things you put on bread. I have bread for desayuno (breakfast) and once (dinner). And when I say that, I don't mean bread on the side with veggies and meat as the main course. Nope. Bread is the main course. You can varry it with different toppings - palta (avocado), queso, jamon (ham), jam, etc. But the bulk of your meal is bread. We're on our own for lunch, and I usually end up buying some sort of bread and something to put on it. It's generally the cheapest option. Also, sandwiches come with 3 layers of bread. Bread, lots of maynaise and maybe some other stuff, bread, more maynaise and again the potential for other stuff, and another piece of bread.

SNICKERS(the "good stuff" candy)
Last night I met up with a guy that I met through CS and his friend and we went dancing. It was SO MUCH FUN. We were a bit of a motley crew, you might say. One of us a gringa with short blonde hair and bad spanish, another a small blast of color (orange pants, purple shirt, turquoise sweatshirt, checkered colored jacket) in a black and white city, and the third a tall, bright t-shirt wearing, mullet-sporter. I stayed consisted with my theme song, and "the pary don't start 'till I come in." Or. . . didn't start, I should say. But since when does modern music care about grammar. Anyways, I had a blast. We got there maybe 1ish and danced to a little after 4. The boys were great. They were the type of people that if I hadn't have come with them, I would have wished that I had. You know how in high school (or junior high, or at clubs, or wherever there is music and dancing, for that matter) the whole large group of people dancing who are so preoccupied with looking cool or hot or sexy or not like and idiot that they forget to have fun? And then there are the people that are having a blast, way more fun than the rest of the room combined, and eveyone wishes they had the confidence to dance like (that last part may be an overstatement, but I'm keeping it). Guess which group we were. Needless to say, I had a really, really fun time. I freakin' love dancing.

NERDS (the "self explanitory" candy)
I'm realliny enjoying school! There are two other kids in my class, and my teacher is awesome. Yep. That's it.

POP ROCKS (The "I Love The'80s" Candy)
I tried to resist. I thought I was stronger than this. I don't know what's happening. But today I found myself thinking: You know what, maybe fanny packs aren't such a bad idea. They're actually a rather convenient, safe, and functional way to carry all your stuff. I was (. . .am) tempted to buy some leg warmers. What's happening to me??

RANDOM CANDY AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR BAG THAT YOU'RE NOT REALLY SURE IF YOU SHOULD EAT OR NOT (the "what the heck is this?" candy)
-This computer lab smells like fish
-Santiago is really big. Rather LA like. Except with good public transportation.
-You can't turn right on red.
-Woke up at 11 this morning. It was excellent.
-I'm going to look for more places to go dancing before 2am. But they're few and far between.
-I had a shortage of pants so I bought some I found at a used clothing store. They fit in the dressing room, but are now about 32 sizes too large. Do all courdory pants stretch out that quickly? Or is this pair just special? And by special, I definitely mean short bus special. Not shooting star special.
-The only acceptable color here is purple.
-Miss you. Love you.