Ainsley "I wonder what Macdonalds will taste like in Chile?"
Arthur (Ainsleys dad) "They might not have Macdonalds Ainsley".
Vera: (Ainsleys Nana) öf course they will Arthur, don't be ridiculous! (stares at Arthur in disbelief).
Well, it turns out that Macdonalds is more elusive over here than both Vera and I once believed. I tracked one down today, up in Chillán, a town close the the Andes. Yes, I went in there and in my broken Spanish accompanied with some pointing ordered a hamburger Happy Meal (just because im in a different country doesn't mean im going to shake up my usual order). Turns out that a hamburger is literally just a patty and bread, nothing else. But I was still stoked out of my mind.
On my great hunt for the Hamburger, I have also been getting up to various other things this week. Im happy to say that my spanish is improving, and I no longer feel like a major loser when I try to use it to communicate with people. The culture shock is on the pass, and I feel like its going to be up hill from here. But its not going to be hard work. I mean its going to be good. Sorry to confuse you with my foolish metephores. I have been getting to know the city, working up my confidence to do such things as go to the supermarket, take the bus and just generally live.
I have been abit sick, but am getting over it now with the help of my immune system and positive vibes (joke). Work with the kids is going great, getting into a bit of a routine as much as you can with babies, and Im loving working with Stephanie the older girl. Last night I went out and didn't get to sleep until about 2.30 this morning. Next thing I know I hear banging on my door and 'get up Ainsley, Ainsley get up, can you get up please?'. Turns out Stephs at my door and she wants to make plasticine animals. I told her that I was feeling a bit sick, and that we would do it later. She couldnt understand why I wouldn't find a 7am early morning sculpting sesh as fun as she thought.
Interesting note about Chile: Everybody, and I mean everybody, smoke like trains here. Like you go outside your house and boom! There is someone smoking. YOu walk down the street, bam! Someone with a smoke. At the bustop, kapow! Cigarette! I know what you are thinking, so what? That happens everywhere. Well, here you can also smoke inside. So when you walk into a restaraunte (bad spelling I know) like I did last night, you are assulted with smoke up your nostrils. ANd when you leave, you smell like someone has kindly taken your clothes while you weren't watching, hung them to air over a bonfire, and returned them, with you none the wiser. Yet another reason I am glad for NZ.
So in conclusion, its going well.
Peace
Ains
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