A little dog died ...

We take turns cooking dinner here in our apartment.  Monday was my night to cook - very easy because Richard had fixed his super risotto the day before and there were lots of leftovers.  I put a couple portions in the casserole dish to bake, and prepared a potful of carrots and asparagus to go along.  While things heated, I watched the street below.  6:30-ish ... tail end of the traffic rush ... drizzling rain.

I didn't see the car hit the dog.  What I saw was the man getting out of his car to walk back and pick up the dog he'd just hit.  Or maybe he'd seen it get hit.  He carried the small white animal gently, his hands under the shoulders and hips.  He laid it down on the parking strip, close to the sidewalk.  The poor little dog's legs twitched for a moment and then drooped.  The man went back to his car and moved on, leaving the little canine on the ground.

Maybe it was new to the neighborhood, a puppy, and hadn't learned the rules of the road yet?

Richard watched too, commenting he was pretty sure he'd seen that dog patrolling a few houses to the right.  The large, curly-haired white dog, next door to where this little one now lay, is the noisy one, barking at every passerby.  The fat, shaggy, golden brown dog who lives in the house in front of which this corpse now rested, came out to sniff:  first the butt, then the belly, then the face.  No connection, no response.  Que pena!  Pobrecito!

Cars passed.  The rain stopped.  People walked by, both on the sidewalk and on the street.  We ate our risotto with vegetables and then Richard moved into the kitchen to clean up, while I walked downstairs and next door to the grocery store for a box of grapefruit juice.

When I came back to my window, I watched two young men stand in the grassy median of the street.  Each hefted his back pack as well as some tool in the hand.  As they walked out of the median, crossing to the far sidewalk, I saw that one carried the spade of a shovel, while the other carried the handle.  The canine corpse was gone.  No doubt they'd lifted a plug of grass in the median and interred the little dog.  Rest in Peace.

Photo taken Wednesday night around 7 pm.  

I don't think the men had any connection to the little dog except that they saw a fellow creature in need of burial.  They left the shovel pieces somewhere behind that plywood-paneled truck and walked on down the sidewalk to the left.

"Lyf so short ... The craft so long to learn."  ........ Chaucer

Eye to Eye with Calbuco

View from my dining room table today, November 12

Thursday, November 6, 2014: 

We have no heat in this little apartment on Avenida Ramon Munita.  From my third floor window I look out across a neighborhood of small two-story casas, the stove pipes above their metal roofs spewing smoke that lays down flat in the cold northwest wind.  I'm so jealous of their fires!  I should have gone along with Richard down to the boat this morning, where he’s right now stoking Abrazo’s wood stove. 

Instead I chose to do some cleaning and sorting here in the new nest, hopeful that Don Pedro will call me back soon with news that he’s bringing us a heater.  We haven’t been able to figure out how to light the stove, but pots of hot tea from the gas burners sustain me.  Small challenges continue.  The apartment has no internet, and Don Pedro  suggested a USB modem.  But the one we bought at Falabella … well … after hours of puzzling with it, both at home and back at the tech desk where we bought it, the vendor agreed it was a bad piece of equipment.  By then I had no patience left for trying another unit.  Maybe tomorrow.      

Los colores de mi vida.  Note the black droid lower right by the stool!

Friday, November 7

Last night Don Pedro came up to see us, with his wife Erica and their two young teens, Cristobal and Catalina.  The chico carried the black metal cube with wheels that is my new best friend:  an electric heater.  Richard had figured out how to light the gas oven by then, so we were not totally frigid; and with all those bodies in the apartment, the windows were soon streaming with condensed vapors. 

Once the newly painted walls, newly covered floors and newly tiled bathroom tub surround had been admired by Erica, I asked my remaining questions (“What does this knob do?” etc.).  When Don Pedro advised us that the cost of electricity is very high, I feared he wanted to raise the rent already, but we assured him we would only use the heater sparingly.  Also, Erica agreed to investigate having internet activated in the apartment.  Then we sat around to chat for a few minutes. 

Catalina, had a question for me, her mother said.

“Do you have daughters or sons?” the chica asked.  At first I couldn’t make out her pronunciation of “daughters”… which embarrassed HER, of course.  Disculpa me!  We recovered.  They all laughed when I explained that the boat has been our hija y hijo.    

Both kids enjoyed the oportunidad to show off their English in front of their parents.  They study it in their schools.  Cristobal claims he has learned most from “the You Tubes.”  Catalina likes American music, and says “English is awesome.”  I’m glad.  Our Angelmo friend complains that English has such an ugly sound compared to Spanish. 

While we chatted, Don Pedro looked through our little picture book 

about the construction of the boat, and proclaimed our boat un tesoro.  Then he rounded up his own gang of treasures and left us to enjoy the electric warmth of our new droid. 

Saturday, November 8

Condominio Ramon Munita is about the same distance from the Mercado Presidente Ibañez as was our apartment in Los Almendros last year, but last year we had to walk UP a steep hill to get to the market.  This year we actually live on a bench a bit higher than the market, so the uphill hike, nowhere near as steep, is on the way home.

We find the Saturday morning market just as colorful, crowded, and fresh as we remembered … see pics in last year’s blog  "Saturday Morning Market" 12-9-13. 

The vendor with the gold tooth is happy to see us again, the ancient blind man still plays his accordion, layers of fresh fish and mounds of shellfish fill the tables, and the supplies of fresh-cut lettuce and parsley are still cheaper than the grocery store.  With laden back-packs we hike home, where Richard begins the ritual of creating his spaghetti sauce.  Teresita is coming for a 1:30 almuerzo.  She already loves R’s spaghetti. 

I bought a bouquet of flowers (the purple-white vallica) at the market, and Tere brings a pretty bunch of rododendro fucsia from her home. 

It’s Chilean tradition, she says, on your first visit to a person’s home, to bring flowers.  When Tere sees that we have a fine view of Volcan Calbuco from the dining table (when the clouds lift, that is), she approves our living arrangements, despite the fact we have “no natura” … no trees or gardens around the building.  

Here's the view without benefit of telephoto

We’re paying around $600/month … like last year… but this time the gas, electric, and gastos are included.  The building is not so elegant as Los Almendros.  We’re farther from the center of town.  It’s easy enough to walk down, when we have time and the weather permits, and catch the Costanera bus to the marina.  But on the return we usually look for a collective to get us back up the hills:  up to the level of the Jumbo grocery store, near where we lived last year … up again to the level of Avenida Presidente Ibañez … then up again to the top of Av. Sargento Silva.  You can see in the photo above that there’s yet another terrace of houses above us. 

Wednesday, November 12

The man from Moviestar came today so we are connected for internet and wi-fi, too.  Yay!  Hope all your connections are operating well, and that the news you find is mostly good.