Now, it could never be said that I had a voice like velvet. I agree that when it came to choosing between me and Richard ´The Love God´ Mercer for the best person to host Love Song Dedications, they definitely weren´t flipping a coin.
However, I never thought I had a voice akin to freshly pressed sandpaper. (Do they press sand paper?) But apparently this is the case. My teachers here take inordinate delight in imitiating my inflection whenever I make what I think is a well turned phrase. The way they would have it I sound like someone torturing a kitten.
And what the hell is wrong with my bottom? I mean it is not going to set the world atalking, but I myself feel that it is a fairly shapely body part.
What do these two things have in common? Nothing. Well, nothing that is except last night´s festivities. (Although some people I am sure will suggest that I talk out of my arse.)
These were just some of the topics that arose when me and a few other fellow students were taken out by a few of our professers (namely Carla, Tamara and Cathy) to be shown the ´real´ Santiago nightlife. This consisted of sitting, listening to some live music and drinking ´Borgoña´ and ´Terromoto´ both of which were similar to Sangria, similar in the sense that they contained about 72 types of spirits, fruit juice and different bits of fruit. Suffice to say I was somewhat sloshed quite early in the piece.
What followed was a series of empassioned and surprisingly frank conversations. ON top of this there were some communal renditions of Disney favourites in both english and spanish. ´Under the Sea´ became ´Abajo del Mar´, ´I just can´t wait to be King´ became ´No puedo esperar ser el Rey´and ´Mnah Mnah´ became... ´Mnah Mnah´ To top it off some questions were thrown back and forth about the nature of the english language that were a bit pointed in character.
´What is wanker, Patrick?´ Cathy asked.
´Sebastian, what is the difference between f**king and making love?´
´Well... it is a bit hard to explain...´I began. Deary me. Deary, deary me.
Wouldn´t you rather talk about...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
It´s all in the hips...
I now know the difference between these glorious Latinos and the rest of us poor Germanic/Asian/whatever sods. Well, at least the difference as my teacher Lydia (a different one to the one I am living with) would have us believe.
It lies in the ability to make your buttocks look like a fight between two cats in a sack any time you hear something that even suggests the shadow of a rhythm. To move with the hips, not with the arms and feet.
And she´s right. These people really do know how to move their bodies. The term ´Sex on legs´ has never been more appropriately applied. (Her impression of the way the rest of us dance, really didn´t do a lot to endear her to me. Apparently
everyone else looks like a complete tool on the dancefloor. And here I thought it was just me.)
This relevation was expressed around 2am on a Saturday morning, after we had been treated to a ravishing display of tango dancing. Did you know there are two major schools of tango dancing - street and stage? Or how about the fact that each school has around 6 or 7 major variations. If you didn´t, you do now.
The couple we saw went through around 7 costume changes, and clearly had being dancing together for a very long time. The fluidity and precision with which they moved their hips and legs was almost beyond belief. Good thing too, otherwise I don´t think Mr Tango Dancer would have had much chance of fathering children. I thoughtlessly had not brought my camera, however I chanced over the same couple a few days later in the street and a photo of them is just below this entry.
Lydia then insisted upon taking me onto the dance floor to see if she could eliminate the rememants of that yucky Irish heritage. I am not sure if she suceeded as I don´t remember too late into the night, but I have the feeling that I was the subject of much amusement for some time. She suggested that I take lessons. Maybe, mayhap.
What a pity I didn´t take my camera, no?
Hasta luego, guys and gals.
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
It lies in the ability to make your buttocks look like a fight between two cats in a sack any time you hear something that even suggests the shadow of a rhythm. To move with the hips, not with the arms and feet.
And she´s right. These people really do know how to move their bodies. The term ´Sex on legs´ has never been more appropriately applied. (Her impression of the way the rest of us dance, really didn´t do a lot to endear her to me. Apparently
everyone else looks like a complete tool on the dancefloor. And here I thought it was just me.)
This relevation was expressed around 2am on a Saturday morning, after we had been treated to a ravishing display of tango dancing. Did you know there are two major schools of tango dancing - street and stage? Or how about the fact that each school has around 6 or 7 major variations. If you didn´t, you do now.
The couple we saw went through around 7 costume changes, and clearly had being dancing together for a very long time. The fluidity and precision with which they moved their hips and legs was almost beyond belief. Good thing too, otherwise I don´t think Mr Tango Dancer would have had much chance of fathering children. I thoughtlessly had not brought my camera, however I chanced over the same couple a few days later in the street and a photo of them is just below this entry.
Lydia then insisted upon taking me onto the dance floor to see if she could eliminate the rememants of that yucky Irish heritage. I am not sure if she suceeded as I don´t remember too late into the night, but I have the feeling that I was the subject of much amusement for some time. She suggested that I take lessons. Maybe, mayhap.
What a pity I didn´t take my camera, no?
Hasta luego, guys and gals.
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
This is the dawning of the Age of...
Aquarius apparently.
Well, that is what a bunch of naked hippies told me when I was about seven. And before you accuse my Ma and Pa of irresponsible parenting, you should know that I was a very mature pre-teen.
This fact always used to annoy me. If the Age of Aquarius began some time in the mid-seventies it means that the preceding couple of centuries was the Age of Pisces. I am a Pisces. I missed out on my own age by what? Only a couple of decades. Now I have to spend the rest of my life feeling like some kind of dirty squatter in the space of those airy fairy Aquarians. Can you understand the injustice of it?
But enough of that. The point is that this is the dawning of the age of disjointed blog entries. And that´s because nothing interesting enough for a whole entry has happened to me in the past week or so. So either you all begin praying that my life gets more bizarre or you get subjected to the inner workings of my mind. Your call.
Over the last week I also my first two games of chess since getting here. I lost both of them. This wouldn´t hurt so much except for the fact that the person I was playing was a 16 year old Swiss boy named Camil. 16? I have 8 more years of life experience than him. That is half of his life. I really need to have some concept of strategy.
My pride has being hurt. Don´t worry though. It will recover.
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Well, that is what a bunch of naked hippies told me when I was about seven. And before you accuse my Ma and Pa of irresponsible parenting, you should know that I was a very mature pre-teen.
This fact always used to annoy me. If the Age of Aquarius began some time in the mid-seventies it means that the preceding couple of centuries was the Age of Pisces. I am a Pisces. I missed out on my own age by what? Only a couple of decades. Now I have to spend the rest of my life feeling like some kind of dirty squatter in the space of those airy fairy Aquarians. Can you understand the injustice of it?
But enough of that. The point is that this is the dawning of the age of disjointed blog entries. And that´s because nothing interesting enough for a whole entry has happened to me in the past week or so. So either you all begin praying that my life gets more bizarre or you get subjected to the inner workings of my mind. Your call.
Over the last week I also my first two games of chess since getting here. I lost both of them. This wouldn´t hurt so much except for the fact that the person I was playing was a 16 year old Swiss boy named Camil. 16? I have 8 more years of life experience than him. That is half of his life. I really need to have some concept of strategy.
My pride has being hurt. Don´t worry though. It will recover.
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Bits and pieces.
There is a TV show over here that, as far as I can tell, consists entirely of 15 or so young attractive twenty-somethings (both male and female) standing in a line, wearing something that could best be described as two pieces of dental floss and a hankerchief and, starting to ahem... jiggle.
This happens to frenzied commentary from a panel of three 50 year old males.
It goes for 30 minutes.
It also immediately follows the news.
Hey, anything is better than A Current Affair. Someone get me in touch with Eddie McGuire.
Oh, and roosters here apparently go ¨Kari iki iki iki¨ These crazy Chileans! Clearly they should say...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
This happens to frenzied commentary from a panel of three 50 year old males.
It goes for 30 minutes.
It also immediately follows the news.
Hey, anything is better than A Current Affair. Someone get me in touch with Eddie McGuire.
Oh, and roosters here apparently go ¨Kari iki iki iki¨ These crazy Chileans! Clearly they should say...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Do you remember the days in the Old School Yard?
We used to laugh a lot...
Contrary to popular opinion, life abroad, while pleasant is not always a rollercoaster, laugh a minute, edge of your seat, action packed, salt reduced experience. Sometimes, well, it is well, quite bloody uneventful. ( I have of course consulted with the British tourism board so as to ensure that I have used the word ´bloody´in an appropriate way.)
So I have decided to tell you a bit about my normal school life, and some of the people I share it with. Let us see how many friends I can lose myself over the next little while.
School is downright fun. We guffaw and chuckle and talk of all things, from sleepwalking to global politics, to the best way to remove unsightly eyebrow hair. Truly, it is a laugh a minute.
But as always it is the people who make a place. Needless to say our teachers are friendly and entertaining, and very good at what they do. But we will meet them in later entries. Today you get to encounter a fellow student.
Let´s met Ingo. Ingo is the man on the right in the photo two down from this entry. He is a lovely fellow from Austria, with long blonde hair and a countanence that can´t help but remind me of John Lennon. A peaceful, calm and contented man who is always ready with a smile and willing to talk about any subject you desire.
Ingo is also just a bit crazy.
When we said good bye to Ingo just last Friday, he was about to get on his bike(which he had brought from Austria)and cycle from Santiago to Lima. Mmmm, sounds like my idea of a good time. However, this alone is not enough for Ingo, because Ingo intends to go to Lima via Argentina. That´s right, this man intends to cross the Andes, not once, but twice..... ON A BIKE!!!!!!!!!!!
When I asked Ingo why in God´s name he intended to embark on this audacious journey, he paused for a few seconds, considered it and said to me:
´Well, I like bikes.´
´Clearly´ I almost shouted ´That´s fine, but there is a great big set of enormous mountains in the way. This doesn´t make you want to think twice?´
Again, there was that slight pause, that moment´s reflection that allows you to be certain that what you say is being given adequate weight:
´No´he said.
And that I suppose, is that.
We used to cry a lot...
So, sadly, we say Auf Weidershen to Ingo (Clearly I am not learning German). He was a good learning companion and treasure to mull over the world with a beer and an empanada.
Good luck in your travels, be safe and be sure. May your gears never stick, your chain never break and your wheels never slide.
For, today, Ingo, we say to you...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Contrary to popular opinion, life abroad, while pleasant is not always a rollercoaster, laugh a minute, edge of your seat, action packed, salt reduced experience. Sometimes, well, it is well, quite bloody uneventful. ( I have of course consulted with the British tourism board so as to ensure that I have used the word ´bloody´in an appropriate way.)
So I have decided to tell you a bit about my normal school life, and some of the people I share it with. Let us see how many friends I can lose myself over the next little while.
School is downright fun. We guffaw and chuckle and talk of all things, from sleepwalking to global politics, to the best way to remove unsightly eyebrow hair. Truly, it is a laugh a minute.
But as always it is the people who make a place. Needless to say our teachers are friendly and entertaining, and very good at what they do. But we will meet them in later entries. Today you get to encounter a fellow student.
Let´s met Ingo. Ingo is the man on the right in the photo two down from this entry. He is a lovely fellow from Austria, with long blonde hair and a countanence that can´t help but remind me of John Lennon. A peaceful, calm and contented man who is always ready with a smile and willing to talk about any subject you desire.
Ingo is also just a bit crazy.
When we said good bye to Ingo just last Friday, he was about to get on his bike(which he had brought from Austria)and cycle from Santiago to Lima. Mmmm, sounds like my idea of a good time. However, this alone is not enough for Ingo, because Ingo intends to go to Lima via Argentina. That´s right, this man intends to cross the Andes, not once, but twice..... ON A BIKE!!!!!!!!!!!
When I asked Ingo why in God´s name he intended to embark on this audacious journey, he paused for a few seconds, considered it and said to me:
´Well, I like bikes.´
´Clearly´ I almost shouted ´That´s fine, but there is a great big set of enormous mountains in the way. This doesn´t make you want to think twice?´
Again, there was that slight pause, that moment´s reflection that allows you to be certain that what you say is being given adequate weight:
´No´he said.
And that I suppose, is that.
We used to cry a lot...
So, sadly, we say Auf Weidershen to Ingo (Clearly I am not learning German). He was a good learning companion and treasure to mull over the world with a beer and an empanada.
Good luck in your travels, be safe and be sure. May your gears never stick, your chain never break and your wheels never slide.
For, today, Ingo, we say to you...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Bad news day.
Prior to beginning this entry, I should alert you to the fact that the subsequent content may offend some viewers. (Clearly this sentence should be read aloud in a voice that sounds like you have just had your vocal cords attacked by a whipper snipper.)
One thing is certain. The Chileans know how to create a good news story. What is the big news story in Australia at the moment - the Cole inquiry. Yes that´s right, a bunch of dull men in even duller suits talking dully about the dullest thing imaginable - wheat. Sure, it is an important staple, but when was the last time wheat slept with its´children´s nanny or gained a lot of weight in a really short time, allowing the rest of us to feel much better about our wreck of a body?
For a point of comparision, let me tell you about the big news story that I have being following here. It is about two men, one called Han Puzlo and the other whose name I can´t remember. For the purposes of this story we will can him, say, Gerald.
Now about two weeks ago someone was cleaning out a drain, as you do, and happened to run across a human stomach without its body. A few days later someone else found a spare arm in their back shed. The next day it was the torso´s turn to appear in the freezer of some factory complex. And so on. All told there was about 8 pieces found. These pieces all belonged to the poor Mr Puzlo. He was obviously having a very bad day.
Hans was a prostitute and drug addict who was known to his neighbours to be down on his luck at this particular time.
The police did their thing and after a few days knocked on Gerald´s door. Gerald was a very reputable ice cream vendor with a young upstanding family. They asked him a few questions and then went on their way to continue their investigations. Gerald obviously thinking the game was up took the afternoon as an opportunity to top himself.
The suicide note revealed the following salient details. Hans and Gerald had being having a bit of a fling for about 3 years, unbeknownest to anyone else. Gerald provided Hans with a living allowance in return for sex. This was not a thing that Gerald was wanting his family to know and Hans was using this fact as leverage to blackmail him into doing all sorts of things, but mostly selling a hell of a lot of ice creams to keep him in the style to which he had become accustomed.
Gerald could deal with the pressure no longer and obviously thought that the most appropriate course of action was to bash Hans over the head with some blunt object, dismember his corpse, keep the various pieces in his ice cream shop freezer for a few days and then spread them about the city - still frozen - like some kind of morbid Easter Egg hunt.
Makes sense to me.
Now that my friends, is a news story.
You know you gotta...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
One thing is certain. The Chileans know how to create a good news story. What is the big news story in Australia at the moment - the Cole inquiry. Yes that´s right, a bunch of dull men in even duller suits talking dully about the dullest thing imaginable - wheat. Sure, it is an important staple, but when was the last time wheat slept with its´children´s nanny or gained a lot of weight in a really short time, allowing the rest of us to feel much better about our wreck of a body?
For a point of comparision, let me tell you about the big news story that I have being following here. It is about two men, one called Han Puzlo and the other whose name I can´t remember. For the purposes of this story we will can him, say, Gerald.
Now about two weeks ago someone was cleaning out a drain, as you do, and happened to run across a human stomach without its body. A few days later someone else found a spare arm in their back shed. The next day it was the torso´s turn to appear in the freezer of some factory complex. And so on. All told there was about 8 pieces found. These pieces all belonged to the poor Mr Puzlo. He was obviously having a very bad day.
Hans was a prostitute and drug addict who was known to his neighbours to be down on his luck at this particular time.
The police did their thing and after a few days knocked on Gerald´s door. Gerald was a very reputable ice cream vendor with a young upstanding family. They asked him a few questions and then went on their way to continue their investigations. Gerald obviously thinking the game was up took the afternoon as an opportunity to top himself.
The suicide note revealed the following salient details. Hans and Gerald had being having a bit of a fling for about 3 years, unbeknownest to anyone else. Gerald provided Hans with a living allowance in return for sex. This was not a thing that Gerald was wanting his family to know and Hans was using this fact as leverage to blackmail him into doing all sorts of things, but mostly selling a hell of a lot of ice creams to keep him in the style to which he had become accustomed.
Gerald could deal with the pressure no longer and obviously thought that the most appropriate course of action was to bash Hans over the head with some blunt object, dismember his corpse, keep the various pieces in his ice cream shop freezer for a few days and then spread them about the city - still frozen - like some kind of morbid Easter Egg hunt.
Makes sense to me.
Now that my friends, is a news story.
You know you gotta...
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
He´s Leo! Leo! Faster than lightning!
I have a new nephew!
Welcome Leo Bell! Leo Michael Ronald Bell was born on the morning of Saturday the 8th of April at 8.30am. At birth he weighed 3.1kg and was 50 cm long. He has a head full of sandy blond hair. Congratulations to Annie and Richie, and first time big brother, Oscar.
A very special Rock and Roll goes out to little Leo on this grand day.
Paddy.
Welcome Leo Bell! Leo Michael Ronald Bell was born on the morning of Saturday the 8th of April at 8.30am. At birth he weighed 3.1kg and was 50 cm long. He has a head full of sandy blond hair. Congratulations to Annie and Richie, and first time big brother, Oscar.
A very special Rock and Roll goes out to little Leo on this grand day.
Paddy.
Hmm, maybe I need a good finishing school...
The other night I met some lovely Chilenos and Chilenas - actually one of each. I had a good chat to them and thought I was doing quite well. Anyway eventually another bloke came and the first bloke left. At that point the girl turned to me and said ¨Would I like to come to a restaurant with us?¨
Do Bishops wear funny hats? Sure!!!
After about a 15 minute drive we arrived at what I thought at the time was a very plush restaurant... in fact it was on top of one of Santiago´s tallest buildings and to top off the opulence, it revolved! How can one not be impressed by such an innovative extension on the concept of a merry-go-round. Although with less horses.
We all sat down and I began to notice that the guy seemed a bit annoyed, a bit bothered. At this point the girl went to the baño and I took the opportunity to ask him if everything was ok.
It turns out that there was indeed something amiss. You see, this boy and girl had dated at one time and tonight - were they still to be together- would have been their ten month anniversary. And this boy, he was keen. He had prepped well, studied ettiquette and taken a hose to himself to ensure that he was the best damn Chilean that he could be. Because tonight was the night, it was the night that he was going to get her back. All was in place. Except for the fact that he now had one more Antipodean than was normally necessary to regain a lost love.
You know sometimes I think I have the social graces of a hippotamus and the intuition of senile guinea pig.
Rock and roll.
Paddy.
Do Bishops wear funny hats? Sure!!!
After about a 15 minute drive we arrived at what I thought at the time was a very plush restaurant... in fact it was on top of one of Santiago´s tallest buildings and to top off the opulence, it revolved! How can one not be impressed by such an innovative extension on the concept of a merry-go-round. Although with less horses.
We all sat down and I began to notice that the guy seemed a bit annoyed, a bit bothered. At this point the girl went to the baño and I took the opportunity to ask him if everything was ok.
It turns out that there was indeed something amiss. You see, this boy and girl had dated at one time and tonight - were they still to be together- would have been their ten month anniversary. And this boy, he was keen. He had prepped well, studied ettiquette and taken a hose to himself to ensure that he was the best damn Chilean that he could be. Because tonight was the night, it was the night that he was going to get her back. All was in place. Except for the fact that he now had one more Antipodean than was normally necessary to regain a lost love.
You know sometimes I think I have the social graces of a hippotamus and the intuition of senile guinea pig.
Rock and roll.
Paddy.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Pickle my bones in alcohol...
You know, if there was one thing that I learnt from the film Capote, it is that if you want to be a great writer you have to offend people.
I don´t particularly want to be a great writer, but hey, I have a spare five minutes, so I am thinking ¨What the hell?¨
But there is a problem. I - meaning me - am a coward. I have always thought the lion in the Wizard of Oz was an idiot. What do you want courage for? It is only going to get you into trouble. Every war in history is simply the result of some idiot refusing to accept that the expression ¨Your odour is reminiscent of leperous dog¨ is simply an introduction to polite conversation. In short, bravery is dumb.
So we are left with a conundrum. A puzzle. A raging riddle with ridiculous ramifications.
But today, dear reader, I have the solution. Because today, we are going to make fun of the dead.
All of this is a particularly round about way to tell you that I visited a fantastic cemetery yesterday. And like all good cemeteries this one was full of people who were long on money and just a tad short on taste. These were the first people I have met (and I use the word met in a very loose fashion)who thought that a gigantic pyramid with 2 sphinxes doing the cha cha would be the most appropriate way to be memorialised. (Aside from the pharoahs of course, although I am sure they would have had the sphinxes singing the greatest hits of the Bangles). Or perhaps a large picture of Elvis layed out in semi precious stones is more to your liking? Or maybe you are a sportsman and would instead prefer your headstone to be shaped like a giant soccer ball and painted in your team colours. The only limitation appeared to be your bank balance and any bastion of sanity that may have remained to you.
Photos, (All together now!), are forthcoming.
On a serious note (please keep your seats...) I also saw the graves of Allende and that of the family of Pinochet. The intensity of feeling that surrounds these people and the ideas and events they represent for Chileans is quite amazing. The amount conflict the older generations have experienced is communicated to you very strongly. The USA is definitely still not in favour in these parts. It is a period and place in history that I would like to know more about.
Now, forever and always people -
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
I don´t particularly want to be a great writer, but hey, I have a spare five minutes, so I am thinking ¨What the hell?¨
But there is a problem. I - meaning me - am a coward. I have always thought the lion in the Wizard of Oz was an idiot. What do you want courage for? It is only going to get you into trouble. Every war in history is simply the result of some idiot refusing to accept that the expression ¨Your odour is reminiscent of leperous dog¨ is simply an introduction to polite conversation. In short, bravery is dumb.
So we are left with a conundrum. A puzzle. A raging riddle with ridiculous ramifications.
But today, dear reader, I have the solution. Because today, we are going to make fun of the dead.
All of this is a particularly round about way to tell you that I visited a fantastic cemetery yesterday. And like all good cemeteries this one was full of people who were long on money and just a tad short on taste. These were the first people I have met (and I use the word met in a very loose fashion)who thought that a gigantic pyramid with 2 sphinxes doing the cha cha would be the most appropriate way to be memorialised. (Aside from the pharoahs of course, although I am sure they would have had the sphinxes singing the greatest hits of the Bangles). Or perhaps a large picture of Elvis layed out in semi precious stones is more to your liking? Or maybe you are a sportsman and would instead prefer your headstone to be shaped like a giant soccer ball and painted in your team colours. The only limitation appeared to be your bank balance and any bastion of sanity that may have remained to you.
Photos, (All together now!), are forthcoming.
On a serious note (please keep your seats...) I also saw the graves of Allende and that of the family of Pinochet. The intensity of feeling that surrounds these people and the ideas and events they represent for Chileans is quite amazing. The amount conflict the older generations have experienced is communicated to you very strongly. The USA is definitely still not in favour in these parts. It is a period and place in history that I would like to know more about.
Now, forever and always people -
Rock and Roll.
Paddy.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Do you think someone should tell them...
P1010024
Originally uploaded by paddydaley.
that this building looks like a mobile phone from the early nineties.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Sure and steady does more than win the race.....
Apparently it is a great beauty tip as well.
Confused? I know I am. Let me explain.
It was a lazy Sunday morning. Having woken up in my very plush, 22nd floor apartment in the centre of Santiago, I wandered out into the kitchen and bent down to say hello to my lovely hosts Pedro and Lydia. (I tell you these people are the lost extras from the Wizard of Oz.... *We welcome you to Munchkin land*)
After a 40 minute conversation involving broken Spanish, sign language and the odd bit of semaphore, they finally managed to communicate to me that there were some lovely markets on every Sunday around the Plaza de Armas not far from where we were. Would I like to go with them? Damn tootin´!
A short walk later, we were there. And what markets they were! Old coins, furniture, paintings and books, everything a notorious hoarder like me could desire. I even managed to pick myself up a Judy Blume book in Spanish. (Those of you who I went to school with will remember the joys of ¨Forever¨) Generally a fantastic time was had by all.
But here is the thing, every second stall - and I mean every second stall had a massive picture of a snail plastered on every spare bit of space. What did it mean?
It only took a short intepretive dance with one stallkeeper for me to understand the answer. It was a health product. You see, that slimy gunky stuff that stops Mr Snail´s bum from getting grazed on the ashphalt, apparently it cures everything from leprosy to haliotosis. And it is huge over here. Everyone is into it. I think I am going to try it. Yeah, next time I crack my head open on some odd piece of furniture, there will be no hospital for me. Just a quick hunt around the garden and an afternoon with me wearing what I will assure people is just a rather odd hat.
Rock and Roll, people.
Paddy.
Confused? I know I am. Let me explain.
It was a lazy Sunday morning. Having woken up in my very plush, 22nd floor apartment in the centre of Santiago, I wandered out into the kitchen and bent down to say hello to my lovely hosts Pedro and Lydia. (I tell you these people are the lost extras from the Wizard of Oz.... *We welcome you to Munchkin land*)
After a 40 minute conversation involving broken Spanish, sign language and the odd bit of semaphore, they finally managed to communicate to me that there were some lovely markets on every Sunday around the Plaza de Armas not far from where we were. Would I like to go with them? Damn tootin´!
A short walk later, we were there. And what markets they were! Old coins, furniture, paintings and books, everything a notorious hoarder like me could desire. I even managed to pick myself up a Judy Blume book in Spanish. (Those of you who I went to school with will remember the joys of ¨Forever¨) Generally a fantastic time was had by all.
But here is the thing, every second stall - and I mean every second stall had a massive picture of a snail plastered on every spare bit of space. What did it mean?
It only took a short intepretive dance with one stallkeeper for me to understand the answer. It was a health product. You see, that slimy gunky stuff that stops Mr Snail´s bum from getting grazed on the ashphalt, apparently it cures everything from leprosy to haliotosis. And it is huge over here. Everyone is into it. I think I am going to try it. Yeah, next time I crack my head open on some odd piece of furniture, there will be no hospital for me. Just a quick hunt around the garden and an afternoon with me wearing what I will assure people is just a rather odd hat.
Rock and Roll, people.
Paddy.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
So the idea was a good one.
P1010016
Originally uploaded by paddydaley.
I thought I would climb the highest hill I could find to get a better view of Santiago. It did not work exactly as planned.
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