Monthly Archives: February 2012

La Fuente Alemana

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While strolling through the Providencia neighborhood in Santiago, my husband and I spied a McDonald’s and immediately entered.  In our best Portuñol (combination of Portuguese & Español) we questioned the woman at the counter about their breakfast sandwiches.  Sadly, our beloved Egg McMuffin remains out of reach.

A Chilean man who witnessed this sorry conversation was kind enough to recommend a nearby lunch spot to make up for Chile’s lack of egg on their breakfast menus.

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La Fuente Alemana translates to The German Fountain.  The restaurant seating is comprised entirely of bar stools lined along the counters and windows.  The menu is reasonably priced and the service is both animated and prompt.

After our visit that we learned Anthony Bourdain frequented this restaurant while touring Chile back in 2009.  It was through his review that I learned the mayo here is homemade.  I now feel slightlybetter about the pile that I consumed over lunch.

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Suco de Frutilla & Pina.  I heart Frutilla.

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Although I rarely eat pork these days, I submitted to La Fuente’s famous lomito sandwich measuring nearly 15 centimeters across.

Completo Lomito includes: palto (avocado), mayonnaise, queso (cheese), and chucrut (sauerkraut).  Sub the sauerkraut for a fried egg and the sandwich is reminiscent of a Mexican Torta.

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It is no Egg McMuffin…but I’ll make a fool of myself in McDonald’s any day for a sandwich like this.

La Fuente Alemana
Monday – Saturday 10:00 am to 10:45 pm
Closed on Sundays and holidays (cash only)

Av. Libertador Bernardo O’Higgins 58 – Centro – Santiago
Metro: Baquedano

Pedro de Valdivia 210 – Providencia – Santiago
Metro: Pedro de Valdivia

La Piojera

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Since returning from Santiago de Chile, we have found ourselves recounting our earthquake experience at La Piojera.

The atmosphere… the people… the terremoto.

I read a single, random review of this bar prior to traveling.  “All tourists must visit and try this drink!”  Does it sound like a trap?  I am pretty sure it was.

We headed over after our fried fish lunch at Mercado Central.

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In hindsight, not a great choice ever when followed by the terremoto.

The commonplace entrance did not prepare us for what we encountered inside.

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Within twelve steps we were welcomed by a retired British detective on a mission and his newfound crew of locals.

Quickly we learned the terremotto (earthquake) was mandatory.

Begin with straight sugar pineapple ice cream.

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Fill it up with Pipeño (fermented white wine).

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Top it off with a splash of Fernet.

Although I have heard many argue over how to best describe this liquor, my favorite depiction so far is ‘Jager with dirt’.

Not surprisingly, the next round is served in a larger glass and referred to as a replica (aftershock).

We did not make it that far.  And although I cannot say it was terrible, it was most definitely not good.

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Mix in a little close talking…

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and multiple cheers that consisted of “Wassup man!!”

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…and you’ve found yourself an authentic local dive.  Complete with grape vines overhead.  Because that is normal.

The highlight of our random conversations was when the Brit told us he was retiring to Ibiza.  He proceeded to draw a map with his finger on my husband’s chest.

As you can imagine, we were too busy laughing to take a picture… but I will never forget the displeased look on my husband’s face as he stood in silence while a strange man touched his chest.

*Update: The story of how La Piojera received it’s name as reported by the BBC.

Address: Aillavilú 1030
Metro: Cal y Canto

Seeing São Paulo

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Thought I would take an opportunity to share a few videos documenting the city of São Paulo and its people while we brave the vineyards in Chile.  It fascinates me to see how others view this massive, sprawling city.  Enjoy.

São Paulo from Marco Aslan on Vimeo via Discovering São Paulo

#SP458 Timelapses from Julio Brunet Rocha on Vimeo via Leah

Only in Brazil

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I have never met this Jim character, but something tells me we would make the best of friends.  Alas, he resides in Rio and I live in the concrete jungle that is São Paulo.  It is through him and other bloggers that I learn valuable information about living in Brazil.  Such as the following tidbit regarding the carnaval celebration that begins tomorrow.

According to Jim, “Each year the television network Globo features a body-painted naked beauty in commercials running up to Carnaval. This 30 second spot runs at all hours of the morning, noon and night. Only-in-Brazil!”

My initial reaction:  My Minnesotan self cannot handle such things.

Second thought:  I must harness the dancer inside of me.  I want to move exactly like that.  But with clothes on.  And with sparkles on top of the clothes.  And perhaps in some nice ballet flats.

Did you see those shoes?  No?  Well you should probably watch it again and look at the shoes this time.

Opposites Attract

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 April:  Go stand by that sign so I can take a picture!

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Husband:  {compliance}

A:  You can’t smile next to a danger sign.  That is confusing.

H:  What?

A:  Be spontaneous!  Look like you are drowning or something.

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H:  {noncompliance & frustration}  That doesn’t make any sense.  I’m on the beach. 

A:  {sad face}

H:  Fine.  Why don’t you do it.  I’ll take the picture.

A:  Okay!!

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A:  Ahhhhhh!  HELP ME!!!  I’M GOING DOOOOWN!

{momentary silence…}

H:  You have got to be kidding me.

Back on Track

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No.  I did not set our car on fire.  (Although, the thought crossed my mind.)

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After my last post I received several comments from fellow expats regarding a simpler method of registration.  Despachantes.  The term derives from the Portuguese word ‘efficient’ and refers to a middle-man of sorts.  These runners are meant to assist in maneuvering through the heaping piles of red tape in Brasil.

Initially, we assumed my husband’s company would partake in this process.  He dropped off all of the necessary paperwork before departing to work in Rio for several weeks.  Upon his return, HR stated it would cost us several hundred reais to have their despachante complete the process.

Being both stubborn and frugal, the husband we decided that I would tackle the task. 

In hindsight, I wouldn’t change a thing (minus the metro incident).  A lengthy and complicated process, yes.  But also insightful.  I presume the majority of Brazilians don’t have the luxury of hiring a despachante, so the tedious governmental tasks remains theirs.  I had the opportunity to experience the bureaucracy firsthand, and in the end, it was resolved and I had encountered only accommodating people. 

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Car registration update:

  • Opted to tackle SP traffic via car (had my fill of public transportation for the week)
  • Missing two documents upon arrival 
  • Waited, received my renavam (final paperwork printed by detran)
  • Told I needed proof of chassi (google translate does not know this word)
  • Questioned why I was alone and no one had been provided to help me (apparently, I wasn’t the only person confused by this)
  • Surrounded by twelve people speaking quickly in Portuguese
  • Escorted to my car by two uniformed police officers 
  • The chassi (VIN) was traced in pencil and signed to verify authenticity
  • Escorted back in, told to pick up my new registration card next Wednesday
  • All twelve detran employees waved goodbye

It was a group effort people. 

This past weekend we toasted the successful completion of a Brazilian task during a celebratory dinner.

Little victories.  Sad, I know.

This week.  Car insurance.

Happy Thoughts

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Goal of the Week: Register car.  Sound easy?  It’s not.  The husband’s company refuses to help us (it’s not in our contract!)  HR casually provided us two locations, both of which were WRONG.  Fail.

  • Transportation taken: bus, train, train, train, bus, train, train, bus
  • Stopped at two incorrect locations before finally locating DETRAN
  • Caught in rainy season downpour with no umbrella
  • Became nauseous and felt the need to destroy something
  • Was given this to do list (of which I understood four words):

  • Printed payment ticket from machine, turned away at Banco do Brasil, 15 minute walk to Santander Bank in the rain, paid taxes upon returning to Banco do Brasil
  • Second floor… did not have proper documents… car STILL NOT registered
  • Defeated, suppressed tears, walk of shame to the train
  • Threw up on metro.*  During rush hour.  Not. Kidding. 
  • Developed hate of all things new and difficult
  • Arrived home.  Rested.  Large car fire in garage. 
  • Fled building in pajamas.  Met numerous neighbors while sick and half naked. 
  • Acquired headache from burning rubber and gasoline smoke

*Getting sick on the metro is not funny yet.  Unless you are my unsympathetic husband who proceeded to laugh as I laid in bed after THE WORST DAY EVER.

SO… as I prepare to return to DETRAN this afternoon, I am choosing to focus on pleasant memories from our previous weekend at the beach. 

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Our good friend Suzanna already did a lovely post on our weekend jaunt to Praia de Camburi so you can just read hers.  I figure I earned a lazy post after vomiting on strangers while enclosed in a contained space yesterday.  Photo tour, commence.

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Jeff, the husband & Alex enjoying lunch on the beach.

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Our adopted dog for the weekend, Tuku.

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A little mother-daughter beach bum for your Friday.

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Myself, Suzanna, Jana & Tara in our conservative swimsuits.

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Paddle boarding.  Apparently, quite hard if you are tall.  Or hail from Minnesota.

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Husband, left.  Jeff Jones, right.

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Our charming pousada was located two blocks from the beach on this dirt road.

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Pray for me as I partake on round two of registration today.

Happy thoughts. Puppies. Coconut juice. Rainbows. Hugs. Books. Picnics. High fives.

A Healthy Dose of Vitamin D

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We are spending our Monday recovering from the most lovely weekend at the beach.

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We arrived Friday night just in time for a walk at sunset and dinner on Praia Camburi.

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The rest of our weekend was spent enjoying incredible food with great friends and consuming an abundance of coconut water.

It finally dawned on me… THIS is why we live in Brazil. I can safely predict there will be many more road trips in the near future. Who wants in?

Birthday Wishes For My Mother

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At some point in our lives we all experience a transition, a shift in our way of thinking.  Parents begin to fulfill the roll of friends.  While I cannot pinpoint the moment in my life when this occurred, the relationships I hold with my parents are decidedly one of the most rewarding aspects of adulthood.  They are my best friends.

Had I the opportunity to meet my mother in her younger days, I would have surely been captivated.  Small town country girl who left the family farm to tackle college and study abroad in Mexico… the girl had some spunk.

And today, she continues to lead by quiet example.  She is patient, devoted, and always perseveres.  On down days, she is supportive and provides a listening ear.  Each time a conversation draws to a close, an email from her is soon to follow.  It says that you were heard, you were understood, and that you are loved.

sam and godmother

Last year’s surprise celebration was quite the affair, with Tim arriving from Afghanistan and the Wittig’s from Chicago.  While this year will undoubtedly be less grandiose, we hope the memories created last for years to come. 

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“One of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don’t come home at night.”
– Margaret Mead

In honor of your birthday mother, I promise to avoid alleys and strangers today.

We wish you the loveliest of birthdays.  You are admired, appreciated and loved.  Endless thanks for things unsaid.

LOVE you always,
April