La niña es loca!!

Yesterday I left my house at 7:30, running late, as you may be aware depending on your interest level in this blog (I do not blame you if that is Low). I failed, in this state, to remember that it was meant to rain all day. As such, I left without my umbrella, wearing a dress and "teacher shoes."

At lunch, I went to a very interesting lecture about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict at the U. de Valparaiso put on by the Unión General de Estudiantes Palestinos de Chile. Afterwards I had to run back to give 4.5 more hours of midterms. As such, I had been out of my house for about 12 hours when I emerged from my last class with an open-topped bag stuffed with my computer, a folder full of uncorrected homework papers, and approximately 60 midterms to grade.

And it was pouring.

So I holed up in the Sala de Profes (my second home) to see if it would let up. 2 hours later, I had to accept that it would not.

Being the fabulous teacher that I am, I sacrificed my outer garments (jacket and scarf) to stuff on top of my tests in the hopes that they would not disintegrate during my 20 minute walk. And then I hit the streets.

Water can kill, here in Chile, much like bare feet, so I believe I looked like a complete madwoman. I was walking at my Boston-paced clip, in a wrap dress, makeup running down my face, hair plastered to my head, clutching a bag to my chest as if it were a baby. Meanwhile I was constantly being trailed by a flock of umbrella salesmen who would fairly chase me down, given the state I was in. It probably resembled the scenes in suspense movies where the woman breaks into some office or other and then excapes frantically with the incriminating documents that will bring down the corrupt administration....this way! No this way! And obligingly every bus that passed by sprayed me with water so as to heighten the dramatic effect.

Needless to say, I arrived at the home of my Chilean host family looking like a mess. At home this would be met with laughing and pointing. Here, it was shouts of horror.

"La niña es loca! Loca! Loca!"

I explained my situation regarding the forgotten umbrella, the midterms, etc. In fact it was not very cold out, but given that I am expected to wear a down jacket for all temperatures below 70F, showing up soaking wet in a dress with no jacket was just out of this world.

This morning I got up and got myself ready with the intention of attending the second lecture in the series (which lasts until Thursday, if any of those who live in the area are interested I can share schedule details). As I ran for the door (late, of course) I stuck my head in the kitchen to tell the family that I would not be eating lunch at the house. They took one look at my fleece jacket (which is not a jacket, in their opinion), and literally both chased me out of the kitchen and hollered at me in what was (to me) and incoherent jumble of Spanish.

"Paragua...!!! Loca....!!!! Chaqueta..!!! Cobres....!!! Refria....!!!"

"It's ok!" I assured them in equally incoherent Spanish (but that's the norm). "It's not cold, it's just raining! This jacket is warm, it's just not big! The other is too warm! I have my umbrella in my bag, it's small but when you push the button it gets to be the right size, I promise! I am LATE!!"

"La niña es loca!!" they yelled to each other, yelled after me as I slammed out the door.

Well, unfortunately I was not successful in my attempt to attend the talk. Instead I ended up with an unintentional walking tour of Cerro Playa Ancha in a steady rain. I defy stereotype: I refuse to ask for directions. I don't know why. I think it's due to being raised by a woman from the Bronx who drilled into me that the second one looks like a lost tourist one will be immediately mugged and/or beaten. I don't mind walking in the rain, in fact I rather like it, as mentioned last week. However, teacher shoes plus this:



means that 2 hours later my feet are STILL soaked through. If teacher shoes are anything like rock-climbing shoes (and they are, a bit--they PINCH) then I am consoling myself with the idea that they will fit much better after drying molded to my foot. And praying I can change my socks before the family sees me and has me committed.