I really don't like small planes. What would be small turbulence in a nice, jolly 747 becomes a armrest-gripping, sweating, praying-to-the-Lord-to-confess-any-sins-you-might-have-forgotten ride. Air hostesses on small airplanes should get combat pay, I'm quite convinced. How they manage to stay upright while the plane is banking at a full 45 degrees is beyond me, as my seatbelt is the only thing keeping me in my chair at that moment.
Then the captain comes overhead and pleasantly informs you that he's turned the seatbelt sign on due to some slight turbulence.
"Why thank you, Captain Obvious," runs through my head, rife with sarcasm at this point as the poor dude's coke, which moments ago was on his tray - 2 whole aisles ahead of me, drips only my lap from it's arc of flight from his chair over to mine.
My flight from Atlanta to Toronto...Toronto... on my way to Chile was such a small plane. No worries though, I had just been through much grander misadventures traveling through Africa. Time to visit Chile. Ah, Chile lindo. I haven't been to Chile in ten years! Mom and Dad have now moved down to the Southern Hemisphere for their next term with Mission to the World to do church planting in the Santiago and Osorno (down south), and maybe a few other cities as well.
So the Lord lit the skies on fire in welcome. I am not kidding:
Sorry, but there's a good chance the spanglish might turn on anytime soon. If I forget to translate, holler.
The funny part of the whole arrival process was getting here. Nobody was at the airport to pick me up! Now, ordinarily I would have panicked, but I figured, knowing the reliability of my dad, something was afoot and there was a good reason he's not showed up. The taxi drivers I was standing around who kept asking me if they could take me somewhere were joking with me that "le puedes tirar la oreja a tu papa despues" or that I can pull my dad's ear later for leaving me stranded. I gave had almost given dad up for a lost cause when a very flustered father showed up. Being in a near panick about not being able to get to the airport on time, he had left his carnet, (chilean ID), driver's license, money, you name it, he'd forgotten it at home. So, in honor of newly arriving in the country and brandishing my 2 day old international driver's license, I got to drive us through the city of 9 million people. Bear in mind I haven't driven in months, but hey!
Good thing mom didn't know or she'd have had a kadiption. (Is that how you spell that?)
The sunset turns the snow on the Andes the shade of the clouds at sunset. Tonight, pink!
Puro sacandoles pica- reineta frita, papas duquesas y un vinito tinto - con Torta Mil Hojas pa' postre. Supper - fried reineta (a fish, don't ask me what it is in English), papas duquesas (something like fried, mashed potatoes-to die for), a local red wine and this Thousand Leaf Torte that I'm gonna write about later to finish it all off with.
He did not, however, warm this land before my arrival.
1 comment:
Aaahhhhhhhhhhh wish I was down there with you!! Watching you do all this globe-trotting has made me homesick for leaving the United States. Does that make sense? Seeing as it's you, you understand perfectly.
Doesn't sound like you had much of a break between Africa and here. Not much at ALL.
Love you girl. Hope to see you again sometime this decade. *mwah*
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