Last week was one heck of a whirlwind. In the best way possible.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... the fun don´t stop till you drop.
I can finally and happily say that I have a family here ... Chileans included. We have a big, cozy group of amazing people with such different stories and walks of life - but we all have one thing in common - the belief that life should be FUN.
They are pretty much the same crew that I talked about in my last post; the ones who went to Fiesta Nikkita and After Office. Mi querido hermano is Esteban and my sugar daddy is Coco. Kathryn, Stephanie and I are known as the Familia Fome (fome in Chilean spanish actually means ´lame´or ´boring´... hahahah.) I think we were coined Familia Fome because unlike the Chileans, we can´t handle going out until 7 AM every Friday, Saturday and some weekdays. I honestly don´t know how they do it ... these
people don´t sleep, I tell you. There´s been many a good night that we´ve stayed in to wrap up in blankets, eat some chocolate and watch a good movie.
I don´t necessarily want to recount exactly what happened last week because it would be more of the same. Dinner parties. Dancing. Walking and exploring the city. Yoga. Spinning. Seems to be routine these days. Which I definitely don´t mind.
I have to confess something: I caved.
I lasted three months without Starbucks. I plugged my ears all those times the Chileans starting raving about their favorite drinks and how amaaaaazing Starbucks is. It was only so long before I had to give in. I think there´s something about growing up in the Northwest too; something about walking around on a nippy day clutching a warm, steaming cup of coffee. It´s in our blood.
Well, the weather turned chilly here and guess where I went? And once I started, I couldn´t stop. I went three days in a row last week. Kathryn, to the left, is my fellow partner in crime. The funny thing is - I´m not even a huge Starbucks drinker back home. I prefer the little Mom and Pop coffee stands that come three to a street block in Seattle. But when you´ve been drinking powdered Nescafe for three months -- Starbucks is a little sip of heaven.
Another thing : Our landlords are officially stark raving mad. On Monday night, well actually Tuesday morning at 1 AM, they came over to our house to shout, scream, yell, jump up and down, and call us ´pigs´, ´mierda´and ´putas´. In front of our friend, Esteban. The jokes on you, landlords. I´m pretty sure they were tripping on cocaine.
We had a dinner party on Sunday afternoon with seven people, three of which live in the house. It was quite the elaborate feast - Esteban is seriously a gourmet chef. Dishes got dirty and chairs got moved around. When we were done, we washed all the dishes minus the cups we drank out of while watching a movie afterwards. Those were in the sink, waiting to be washed when we got home from work on Monday. Maybe we didn´t push the chairs back in the "correct" way ... I don´t even know. Something about the fact that we had a dinner party and enjoyed the space WE are renting and paying for really set the landlords off. And I mean really.
I thought they were going to whip out a knife and threaten us or something. I´m truly grateful that Esteban was there, even though it was a horrible thing for him to witness. I´ve never seen two 40-year-old men behave in such a way to three young-20´s women.
I think the fact that when I pay $300 a month (which is half of my monthly salary) to live in a house that the landlords don´t even live in, it means I am renting it and am therefore entitled to use it as I please, escaped them. They believe that since they own it, they have every right to dictate how we are supposed to live there. They come over several times a day to inspect the place and make sure we aren´t throwing raves or anything. I totally agree that the house should be treated with respect and when someone makes a mess, they should clean it up. By all means. But there comes a point. And they´ve crossed the line.
Unfortunately, I have to wait until June 12th to move out. The contract explicitly states that I can get my deposit back a month from when I told them I was moving out - which was May 12th. They are not getting away with money that is not rightly theirs. Even though they´ve kept everyone else´s deposit, I´m making sure I get mine back. I´m following the rules of the contract and they will too. They will. How naive I sound. But I´m not going to let it go easily.
As you can tell, I´m a little rattled. I´ve never been threatened by two insanely worked-up, tripped-out and irrational adult men before. For leaving a dish in the sink. And maybe not pushing a chair back under the table. In a house that I live in and they don´t. It was a frightening experience. Stephanie was crying afterwards and would tear up throughout the next day.
But life goes on. And so it does. This weekend we are hoping to take a nighttime tour of the old, elaborate and grand cemetary that houses all the big Chilean names. The tour has all the pre-requisites of a good time - ghost sitings, dramatics, and a Chilean history lesson. Anyone who knows me well knows I´m equally petrified and intrigued by ghost stories. True story: I was so frightened after watching The Sixth Sense that I slept in my parent´s bed. I was 13-years-old.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... the fun don´t stop till you drop.I can finally and happily say that I have a family here ... Chileans included. We have a big, cozy group of amazing people with such different stories and walks of life - but we all have one thing in common - the belief that life should be FUN.
They are pretty much the same crew that I talked about in my last post; the ones who went to Fiesta Nikkita and After Office. Mi querido hermano is Esteban and my sugar daddy is Coco. Kathryn, Stephanie and I are known as the Familia Fome (fome in Chilean spanish actually means ´lame´or ´boring´... hahahah.) I think we were coined Familia Fome because unlike the Chileans, we can´t handle going out until 7 AM every Friday, Saturday and some weekdays. I honestly don´t know how they do it ... these
people don´t sleep, I tell you. There´s been many a good night that we´ve stayed in to wrap up in blankets, eat some chocolate and watch a good movie.I don´t necessarily want to recount exactly what happened last week because it would be more of the same. Dinner parties. Dancing. Walking and exploring the city. Yoga. Spinning. Seems to be routine these days. Which I definitely don´t mind.
I have to confess something: I caved.
I lasted three months without Starbucks. I plugged my ears all those times the Chileans starting raving about their favorite drinks and how amaaaaazing Starbucks is. It was only so long before I had to give in. I think there´s something about growing up in the Northwest too; something about walking around on a nippy day clutching a warm, steaming cup of coffee. It´s in our blood.
Well, the weather turned chilly here and guess where I went? And once I started, I couldn´t stop. I went three days in a row last week. Kathryn, to the left, is my fellow partner in crime. The funny thing is - I´m not even a huge Starbucks drinker back home. I prefer the little Mom and Pop coffee stands that come three to a street block in Seattle. But when you´ve been drinking powdered Nescafe for three months -- Starbucks is a little sip of heaven.
Another thing : Our landlords are officially stark raving mad. On Monday night, well actually Tuesday morning at 1 AM, they came over to our house to shout, scream, yell, jump up and down, and call us ´pigs´, ´mierda´and ´putas´. In front of our friend, Esteban. The jokes on you, landlords. I´m pretty sure they were tripping on cocaine.
We had a dinner party on Sunday afternoon with seven people, three of which live in the house. It was quite the elaborate feast - Esteban is seriously a gourmet chef. Dishes got dirty and chairs got moved around. When we were done, we washed all the dishes minus the cups we drank out of while watching a movie afterwards. Those were in the sink, waiting to be washed when we got home from work on Monday. Maybe we didn´t push the chairs back in the "correct" way ... I don´t even know. Something about the fact that we had a dinner party and enjoyed the space WE are renting and paying for really set the landlords off. And I mean really.
I thought they were going to whip out a knife and threaten us or something. I´m truly grateful that Esteban was there, even though it was a horrible thing for him to witness. I´ve never seen two 40-year-old men behave in such a way to three young-20´s women.
I think the fact that when I pay $300 a month (which is half of my monthly salary) to live in a house that the landlords don´t even live in, it means I am renting it and am therefore entitled to use it as I please, escaped them. They believe that since they own it, they have every right to dictate how we are supposed to live there. They come over several times a day to inspect the place and make sure we aren´t throwing raves or anything. I totally agree that the house should be treated with respect and when someone makes a mess, they should clean it up. By all means. But there comes a point. And they´ve crossed the line.
Unfortunately, I have to wait until June 12th to move out. The contract explicitly states that I can get my deposit back a month from when I told them I was moving out - which was May 12th. They are not getting away with money that is not rightly theirs. Even though they´ve kept everyone else´s deposit, I´m making sure I get mine back. I´m following the rules of the contract and they will too. They will. How naive I sound. But I´m not going to let it go easily.
As you can tell, I´m a little rattled. I´ve never been threatened by two insanely worked-up, tripped-out and irrational adult men before. For leaving a dish in the sink. And maybe not pushing a chair back under the table. In a house that I live in and they don´t. It was a frightening experience. Stephanie was crying afterwards and would tear up throughout the next day.
But life goes on. And so it does. This weekend we are hoping to take a nighttime tour of the old, elaborate and grand cemetary that houses all the big Chilean names. The tour has all the pre-requisites of a good time - ghost sitings, dramatics, and a Chilean history lesson. Anyone who knows me well knows I´m equally petrified and intrigued by ghost stories. True story: I was so frightened after watching The Sixth Sense that I slept in my parent´s bed. I was 13-years-old.
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