Kyle Hepp

June 20, 2008

When I was little I thought that when I grew up I wouldn’t need to sleep. In my mind adults could just stay up all night and all day because that’s what my mom did. The poor woman was raising two kids, working 60 hours a week and getting her master’s degree all at the same time. Since I would wake up at 4am for a glass of water and there she’d be sitting, typing a paper or something of the like, I just thought she never slept.

My mom was and still is a superwoman. She has literally dedicated the last 24 years of her life to helping me and my brother reach our goals and our dreams. I know a lot of moms are selfless but mine took it to new levels. I think she went years without buying a single item for herself…no new clothes, new shoes, no candles for her bedroom, nothing…just so she could spend money on other things for her kids, like band camp and new cleats for soccer and piano lessons. We may not have been materially wealthy but my mom encouraged us to do every single extra curricular activity we were interested in, even though that was a huge strain on her budget. She didn’t want us to be deprived of any of the experiences life has to offer. She indebted herself to buy a plane ticket for me to Chile 10 years ago, and look where that got me. When I told her I made the cheerleading team and that required buying whities, a separate pair of shoes for tumbling and for stunting and for jumping, new warm up uniforms in the fall and winter, cheerleading camp in the summer (NOT cheap at all), she said, “We’ll find a way to pay for it.” When I wanted to join band, she found a used flute to buy me.

And aside from making financial sacrifices, I cannot even imagine giving of my time the way my mom gave of hers. Some of my friends parents would come to soccer games or band meets or cheerleading competitions when they could make it. Some other parents never went. My mom falls into neither of those categories. She went to every single event I ever had in high school. And I had a lot of events. From August-November I played club soccer so I’d have one game a week, plus I cheered at the football games every Friday and had band festivals most Saturdays. She went to them all. December through March were the cheerleading competitions and indoor soccer games. Soccer was once a week and so were cheerleading competitions, six hours long every Saturday. The reason many other moms didn’t go to all of those competitions is because of the six hours they’re 5 hours and 50 minutes of watching other teams, and 10 minutes of watching your own team’s three rounds…and of those three rounds, each girl isn’t necessarily in all of them. So you may get to watch your daughter for a grand total of 3 minutes during the 6 hours you’re sitting in back achingly uncomfortable bleachers in a hot sweaty crowd of screaming cheerleaders and parents. And don’t forget, these competitions were all over the state of Michigan, sometimes four hours away. THEN, we’d get home and I’d make her watch the videos with me over and over and over, sometimes in slow motion. I’m sorry mom, I was an evil child.

Then came soccer season from March-June, and we sometimes had three games a week. My mom never missed a game. She never missed anything. In my childhood, I never lacked for a supportive adult figure in my life. Oh, and let’s not forget, I’m not an only child. My mom also juggled my events with my brother’s, although he was significantly less involved in sports than I was.

So we have financial and emotional support covered…how else is my mom the best mother in the entire world you ask? Well, she’s never been a judgmental kind of person, but with her kids I can truly say that her love was unconditional. She never belittled us for the choices we made or tried to get us to go down a path we didn’t want to. I went from wanting to be a mermaid, to Janet Jackson, to an Olympic gymnast, to World Cup soccer player, to president of the U.S., to a business woman to an interpreter, to who knows what else. Never once did my mom say, “No, that’s not possible.”

When I got a job as a celebrity gossip blogger the response elicited a lot of looks. You know the look…the one that says you’re using your college degree for that?!? You’re doing what with your life now???

Guess who never gave me the look. Guess who said, “I’m so proud of you. You’re a talented writer and I’m amazed that you’ve been resourceful enough to find a way to make a great living in Chile!”

Yeah, of course it was my mom who said that.

She’s a woman whose love for her kids knows no boundaries. And aside from the fact that she’s my mom, I genuinely enjoy her company and think she’s a fascinating person. We make each other laugh, enjoy doing similar things and always have great, stimulating conversation together.

And she arrives in Chile tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the first time ever, I will be hosting my mom in my home. Finally, after so many years of her giving to me, I am able to give something to her. I helped her buy her plane ticket down and it felt SO good. I have been wanting to have enough money to spoil my mom ever since I’ve can remember and now I finally can! It’s also different that now she will be coming to stay with me, which means I’ll get to take care of her for a little while. Usually I’m staying with her, or we’re both at a neutral place.

I don’t know, writing this whole blog entry feels totally inadequate. I don’t know how to even come close to expressing my gratefulness for everything that my mom is to me.

So mom, if you read this before you get on the plane, thank you. I love you and I can’t wait to see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(And to everyone else reading this, please send a few good thoughts/prayers/wishes up in the air for my mom to have a safe trip).

15 Comments

June 18, 2008

We live near a Lider, which is a really tiny, crappy grocery store without a lot of variety in products. It also only has like 6 cash registers for all the gazillions of people that shop there every day so the lines are usually at least 10 minutes long if not more. Annoying.

So the other day we discovered that our favorite grocery store here, Jumbo, delivers! S. started browsing through the website to decide what he wanted to order. Upon seeing all the different flavored milks and many kinds of yogurts he shouted out, “I’m going to fill the fridge with lactose!”

WHO SAYS THAT?!?

I laughed so hard I almost cried. Sorry if this isn’t funny to anybody else, but my husband cracks me up.

*updated: I should probably add, he said this in Spanish. No language barrier here, just S. being weird.

9 Comments

June 17, 2008

I’m indecisive and I can’t tell which version I like best. I do crazy bright colors all the time so I thought I’d switch it up a little and try something new.

Anyways, I did a photo shoot with the cutest little girl on Sunday, and she lived out in Chicureo. It’s a really beautiful area about 30 minutes north of Santiago. The day was gorgeous so I snapped a few pictures out my window while we drove to the client’s house. It’s not a properly exposed or composed picture, but for some reason I really like it…enough to spend time trying 3 different kinds of post processing.

If you want to see the photoshoot of the little girl, check out some of the pictures here.

And better yet, if you haven’t bought postcards yet, get them here!

7 Comments

June 16, 2008

Heather just wrote what I think is a pretty brilliant comparison of Chilean and gringo cultures when it comes to friendships. Her post is called, “Good advice, develop your people filter.” Aside from one remark she makes about worrying whether people might steal her stuff, I’ve pretty much had similar feelings and realizations to everything in her article.

Chileans, to me, are much harder to read than gringos.

On multiple occasions I’ve thought that a Chilean woman seems cool and would be fun to hang out with. Then we’ve done the phone number exchange and I’ve called only to get blown off or burned if we make actual plans.

After years of trying to ingratiate myself with S.’s friends girlfriends, after one particularly fun night I really felt I was making progress and that they had totally accepted me as one of the group. Then later that same week I found out that they had all went out together and hadn’t invited me.

It got to the point that I was so nervous about actually trying to make a Chilena friend that when I met a cool girl at a party 6 months ago I didn’t even want to ask her for her phone number. I made S. do it, and at first she was put off because she thought a married man was trying to get himself a little somethin’ somethin’ on the side.

S. got her phone number, she added me on facebook the next day and we made plans via The Wall to go out. On the big day that I went to meet up with her I was very nervous. I spent forever trying to choose an outfit that didn’t scream, “loser trying to hard to make friends!” Although that fact that I did spend forever on picking it out means I was a loser trying to hard to make friends, but I didn’t want to give off that vibe.

I arrived at the given meeting point and she didn’t show up. I started freaking out. I called S. in tears, “This is the LAST time I EVER talk to a Chilean woman again. I hate them all!”

I thought I had been burned once again.

Yet, for some reason, I didn’t leave (which, again, shows how desperate I really was to have one nice female Chilean in my life). After waiting for a half an hour I was packing up to go home when she showed up, frantically apologizing — she was stuck in a meeting and hadn’t been able to call.

Now that same woman is one of my good friends. She’s been nothing but loyal and amazing….just how she seemed from the get go. But, I strongly feel that she’s the exception to the rule. Not that there aren’t loyal and amazing Chilenas out there, because there are. It’s just way harder to find them because things aren’t as they seem here. People often come across as really friendly and open, they’ll say, “Yeah, let’s hang out!” and then later on you find out that they have zero desire to form any kind of relationship with you.

This girl was different because what you see is what you get with her.

Is it because appearances are so important in Chile that you must act like the nicest person in the world even if you plan on crushing their hopes and feelings quietly and discretely later on…just so as not to appear like you’re a mean person?

This isn’t about what’s better or what’s worse. It’s just about differences in cultures, which is a major impediment when it comes to making friends in this culture. In the U.S., what you see is usually what you get. If a gringo acts like a rude asshole, he is a rude asshole. If a gringo acts like he wants to be your friend, he does want to be your friend.

In my gringa eyes, because that’s the system I’ve grown up with and know how to work my way around in, that way of relating to people seems much simpler.

In Chile, the rules are different. In general you’re expected to act like you want to be everyone’s friend, and never be a rude asshole in public. Only time will tell a person’s true intentions.

Chileans are used to this system, which is why, as my husband puts it, “We trust no one.”

27 Comments

June 13, 2008

I think I speak fluent Spanish….or at least sometimes I think I do. Granted, I have the horrible accent and all that, but I speak quickly and easily in the language without having to translate in my head or anything like that. I dream in Spanish quite often and sometimes even when I’m speaking or typing in English I’ll accidentally write a word out in espanol just because it’s what comes to mind first.

But, every once in a while I’ll overhear something that makes me wonder, “Did he/she really just say that or I am totally misunderstanding because I don’t speak Spanish.”

Today at the pharmacy, an older woman walked in, and to no one in general began mumbling, very loudly “Donde esta la crema lechuga, crema lechuga donde estas?”

It’s always funny to hear someone talking out loud in public, especially if she looks like a crazy cat lady and is repeating over and over, “Where’s the lettuce lotion, lettuce lotion where are you.”

I thought I was losing it and that she must have been saying a word that sounded like lettuce but had a different meaning more related to personal hygiene products and not edibles.

A guard quickly approached her and replied, “M’am, the lettuce lotion is right over there,” pointing her in the right direction. I stared at him incredulously, and may have even said out loud, just like the crazy cat lady, “Lettuce lotion?!? That can’t be right!”

So I casually meandered on past where the crazy cat lady was staring at bottles of creams and sure enough, she was holding one that said “Crema Lechuga.”

Now my brain was really about to explode. Could I be translating “lechuga,” wrong? Does lechuga not mean lettuce? Could lechuga really mean freckles or bags under your eyes?!? What is going on???

I walked home pondering the mysteries of life and Crema Lechuga. Then all of a sudden it hit me! There’s a saying here that goes, “fresco como lechuga,” or “fresh as lettuce,” in the literal translation, which would be the equivalent of saying “fresh as a daisy,” in English.

Fresh Lotion would make a lot more sense than Lettuce Lotion, even though Lettuce Lotion does have a nice ring to it.

And YAY, I do speak Spanish, just like I suspected. Why do I doubt myself, and then start thinking that I’m the one going “round the bend,” in the words of the great Roald Dahl? I’m not crazy…the cat lady isn’t even crazy. We’re both totally sane…because the fact that Lettuce Lotion exists here makes perfect sense

PS. Just googled crema lechuga and it has it’s own website! Coolio.

17 Comments