(no subject)
I'm so hot that I can start a livejournal trend (among my friends) with my first post in over a month. (ignoring the fact that I stole it from Liz, who stole it from her crazy QaF community friends)
So. I'm here, in a summery Santiago where I can turn a corner in a tank top and flip flops and run into a huge inflatable Santa. And I'm getting oh-so-nervous about going back, to the U.S., to Milwaukee, to NYC, and now to LA too. Christmas seems as far away as the States, and both are getting closer with each day. I don't want to leave, but there are many reasons for me to go (I might go crazy if I stay any longer at this Catholic university, I miss my friends and family, indian food, mexican food, riding). Santiago has definitely grown on me, changing from a cold scattering of commercialism to a sunshine-y, weird little internetwork of small barrios with different flavors.
The punk kids selling used clothes along the gushing-brown Mapocho river, the mimes perferming for crowds of kids in front of the Museo de Bellas Artes, the pervy internet cafes where gay men set up assignations when they're not showing their cocks to a webcam, the cute little cafes where they overcharge for a hot chocolate or fruit juice, Julito's (my favorite empanada place, run by this old socialist, where Manu Chau came to eat when he played in Santiago), the lush swirling paths of Cerro Santa Lucia, the rumbling micros with their screaming horns and earnest musicians playing for pesos, fruit and vegetable stands where they hack apart pumpkins with little saws, the stray dogs that wander around looking for love (or human flesh like Rachel suspects).
I'm already nostalgic and I haven't even left.
I'm nervous about having to jump head-first into another rushed, crazy semester, to constantly have to play catch-up. I feel like I'm going to be restless or fall into a rut, and there's no inbetween, even though I know that's ridiculous.
...and I've discovered a love for being overdramatic. Maybe I'm not so different from my sister after all.
So. I'm here, in a summery Santiago where I can turn a corner in a tank top and flip flops and run into a huge inflatable Santa. And I'm getting oh-so-nervous about going back, to the U.S., to Milwaukee, to NYC, and now to LA too. Christmas seems as far away as the States, and both are getting closer with each day. I don't want to leave, but there are many reasons for me to go (I might go crazy if I stay any longer at this Catholic university, I miss my friends and family, indian food, mexican food, riding). Santiago has definitely grown on me, changing from a cold scattering of commercialism to a sunshine-y, weird little internetwork of small barrios with different flavors.
The punk kids selling used clothes along the gushing-brown Mapocho river, the mimes perferming for crowds of kids in front of the Museo de Bellas Artes, the pervy internet cafes where gay men set up assignations when they're not showing their cocks to a webcam, the cute little cafes where they overcharge for a hot chocolate or fruit juice, Julito's (my favorite empanada place, run by this old socialist, where Manu Chau came to eat when he played in Santiago), the lush swirling paths of Cerro Santa Lucia, the rumbling micros with their screaming horns and earnest musicians playing for pesos, fruit and vegetable stands where they hack apart pumpkins with little saws, the stray dogs that wander around looking for love (or human flesh like Rachel suspects).
I'm already nostalgic and I haven't even left.
I'm nervous about having to jump head-first into another rushed, crazy semester, to constantly have to play catch-up. I feel like I'm going to be restless or fall into a rut, and there's no inbetween, even though I know that's ridiculous.
...and I've discovered a love for being overdramatic. Maybe I'm not so different from my sister after all.