Expats in Chile Are All from the Midwest

February 20, 2009

Ok, really, this is insanity. I keep meeting more and more gringa expats in Chile and they are ALL from the Midwest. I mean, seriously, the number of Minnesotans alone probably outnumbers the amount of Chileans in Santiago. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but they truly do make up a vast percentage of the expats that I know.

And if the gringa expat isn’t from the Midwest, she’s most likely from New York City or California. Those are your other two options. :)

I wonder what it is about the Midwest that makes all of us gringas come running straight in the country of Chile’s open arms. Were our lives growing up in the middle of cornfields just so boring that we wanted to trade it all in for a lifetime of mullets and machismo?

It would be really interesting to do a survey and find out.

Although, I’m not certain, because I don’t know a LOT of older expats in Chile, I think the Midwest phenomenon might pertain only to this generation of gringas (20-33′ish years old). Anyways, if you could take 2 seconds to answer the poll above and tell me where you’re from I’d greatly appreciate it. I want to see if all gringas in Chile are from the midwest, or really just all the gringas I know are from the Midwest.

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Quit Our Jobs and Travel the World

February 18, 2009

Yesterday S. said something that made my little heart pitter patter.

He asked hesitantly, “So. If I put in my notice right now, then what?”

“Then what?” is a great question. I told him, “Then we leave! In a month! As soon as possible, with the money we have…let’s go, let’s do it! Let’s DO IT!!!!”

When it all comes down to it, I don’t really care about the money. If I have to blog more to keep us afloat as we travel, that’s fine. I can do my job from anywhere and I think that means that in my head I’m just a little more mentally prepared than the average person to up and leave. Since my work can travel with me, and since I already live far away from family, I don’t feel like I have any strings tying me down here in Chile. There’s no emotional cutting the cord process to go through. As long as S. is with me, I’m already free to leave as I please. I’m already a mental vagabond.

S., on the other hand, well, he’s more of a planner and a thinker than I am. I know the only reason he even mentioned quitting his job now is because he’s been seriously contemplating for a long time. Otherwise he wouldn’t even bring it up. And after I stopped jumping around the house screaming he started calculating how much money we have saved up, how much I would make writing if I only did it part time, how long that would last us, what we would do with Papito immediately, where we would go, etc.

He won’t quit his job. I can tell. That’s just not something he would do. But, I like that he’s already talking about it. I like feeling that he’s just as anxious as I am to get this show on the road.

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Two Year Wedding Anniversary

February 17, 2009

Two years ago to the day I got married. Last year I went back and read what I posted on our first year anniversary, and realized, this year it’s my turn to plan something. Oops. So I guess that means we’ll be dining out at the restaurant around the corner. :)

I’m about to go mushy so if you don’t like, don’t read.

When I met S., I knew he would change my life. He made me realize that not all guys are dicks and not all marriages are doomed. I loved him instantly and better yet, he loved me too.

Here’s a sweet cliche for you. He’s a genuinely good guy and I couldn’t ask for a better husband. It’s true.

When we order sushi and split the rolls, he always gives me an extra piece of my favorite kind.

When I tell him I need him, he’s there. Even if that means waking up in the middle of the night (for him, 4pm was the middle of the night because he’s working the graveyard shift right now so his schedule is all turned around) after three hours of sleep and getting on a bus with me to go help me do a photo shoot because I’m too nervous to meet my clients alone. S. always comes through.

We laugh together. A lot. We make each other happy. Not 100% of the time, of course, but the large majority of the time, which is really all it takes.

S. and I have made it through cultural differences and physical distances. We overcame a language barrier. We didn’t kill each other, even while living in a room the size of a shoebox. He’s supportive of me while I try to get a business off the ground and I support him as he moves up the career ladder — both of which are frustrating and time consuming.

I love him so much that sometimes it literally takes my breath away. And I’m not even a romantic, in the typical sense of the word. But, S. does make me believe in love. So here’s to 2 years of marriage and many more to come. I lift my can of Coke to my husband as he snores in the bed upstairs.

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