This is a mere sampling of the different one-liners that entered my head on a daily, Chilean basis... Viva Chile.
Never let a kiwi vendor wish you farewell.
I miss sharp cheddar cheese like a famished mouse.
It brings a smile to my face to think how in the USA I am a relatively decent dancer, with rhythm and enthusiasm. But by Chilean (Latino) standards, I am NADA. My hips do lie cross-culturally. Take that Shakira.
Chileans are bringin’ back the mullet.
If we improved our standards of media production in the USA, how much would our International Relation Affairs department flourish?
If one more Chilean calls me princess on the street or if I hear another car horn that sounds like a whistle, I might strike at the male.
Just because we have equal rights with men does not mean we should become one.
The anti-inflammatory cream for my banged-up knees makes them black. That’s a good sign, right?
It doesn’t get much better than riding bicycles in the desert at nighttime under the starlit heavens.
Rock n’ Roll makes happy hips.
Atacamenian dust slays the olfactory.
Alpaca, Guanaco, Vicuña, Llama – love at first sight.
Small villages fascinate me – especially those that have churches older than the USA or with habitants less than 40.
Whereas my hair dries naturally in 3 hours during the summer, in the Atacamenian heat, it took about 40 minutes.
Everyone should experience being 60% deaf in their second language.
It is no longer not understanding as much as not hearing.
Hearing wax swish from one ear canal to the next is always an interesting phenomenon; it’s even more interesting when you are overwhelmingly grateful to hear the precise sound of squeaky grocery kart.
Did I really just make my teeth bleed by eating “quadritos” (wheaties)?
I am declaring surfing to an earth tremor an official sport.
I like it when the postman likes me and gives me cough drops as a reward.
I think I would like to meet my husband on a micro. Romantic, ¿maybe?
Saw a curly, red-haired Chilean. Her freckles made my day. Diversity *sigh*
The adrenaline rush of standing on a micro bus for 20 minutes surpasses any Six Flags ride available.
Never knew batteries were to be guarded with your life: plastic treasure box with high-top security lock.
Always a tossup – dry skin or fleas?
Santiago forms dark, smoggy boogers. Guaranteed.
Dressing hippie makes for an interesting day.
Is there an urge for anonymity in my life? Matthew 6:4
As I was organizing my room, I was talking to myself and mumbled, "MAN, WHY DO I HAVE SUCH COLD??" English is my first language...