Conversations... of a sort

Around Punta Arenas:

Chilean: hey El Rubia (it means blonde girl, I think) or gringa (White girl)
Me: “No habla, No habla Espanol, No Habla todo Espanol, I don’t know, No… I don’t understand, please quit talking to me”

At School:

Chilean Child: You speak Ingles?
Me: Si
CC: Where you from?
Me: Estados Unidos
CC: Where you from?
Me: United States
CC: Where you from?
Me: Carolina del Sur
CC: ???
Me: South Carolina
CC: Teacher, Teacher what’s your name?
Me: chuckling. Merrette
CC: Teacher, teacher what’s your name?
Me: Maaaareeeettteee
CC: ????
Me: M
CC: oh, pretty
Me: Si

I need to share these conversations; it’s just mean to keep them for myself.

I have a new suggestion for those suffering from writers block… move. Just move somewhere that blows your mind and you won’t have a lick of trouble trying to find something to write about. I promise. I know I keep subliminally complaining about Punta Arenas which isn’t fair because one of my friends is on an island with only 600 people and three others are on an island with about 1500. Now, that would be constant laughter. Luckily, they do speak Spanish… well Mexican Spanish and from what I’ve been told is totally different from Chilean Spanish (because let’s be serious I don’t know ANY Spanish). So, pray for all mi amigos that are decorating the country of Chile with their pale skin, American Spanish and adventurous spirits.