November 8, 2011: Preposición revolución

Once again, Chile has forgotten that it’s supposed to be springtime here. Brrr. I trooped, icicle-esque, to class, where we studied prepositions in painful detail. Luckily, avocado-and-chicken sandwiches, from the nice sandwich man in Plaza Sotomayor, do help with the prepositional process.

Oh, are you looking for la revolución? Right this way!

For classmate-lunchtime today, we went for pizza. Don’t you automatically think “Chile” when you hear “pizza”? I know I do. It was surprisingly good, even given my lackluster cheese experiences here so far. We ordered a rough approximation of a Hawaiian pizza: pineapple and ham. The ham turned out to be ground ham, scattered in little curlicues over the pizza, with exactly one speck of pineapple per slice. But it was crisp and flavorful.

All the honey locust trees have just passed the peak of their bloom. Whenever I walk up my hill, it snows: wilting white blossoms drift down at me from every tree. I shed flowers for hours after I’ve returned home.

6 thoughts on “November 8, 2011: Preposición revolución

  1. Wait: that wasn’t Eleni who posted that. It was Ninna. Damn it, Eleni. You logged me out and logged in without telling me.

  2. The shedding of “wilting white blossoms” are meant to keep you in practice, until you’re home and can properly shed cat hair again.

    You’re right about it being cold. weather.com says it’s only supposed to reach around 72 degrees. (I’m sorry, I meant 22 degrees.) Though … sadly for you, it appears that that’s normal:

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valparaiso#Climate

  3. “Whenever I walk up my hill, it snows: wilting white blossoms drift down at me from every tree. I shed flowers for hours after I’ve returned home.” Darnit. You’re gonna have me waiting forever in hopes I’ll see some of your more serious writing. I may be curled against a dingy wall in my 80s, dimly scratching at the walls for your writing. That last line was particularly nice.

    1. Thank you! Coming from you, especially, this makes me grin with glee. Maybe I should do some serious writing, just to save 80-year-old you from a bleak fate…

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