Alfonso Hits the Big One

Alfonso threw a large birthday party ! Alfonso is The Diminutive One's nephew.

Peluqueria Francesa

Went for a meal with these two last week. Somehow, we managed to secure our own private VIP room at the back of a relatively fancy eatery. The place was stuffed full of antiques, all for sale said Thom. Thom also complained that he never featured on the blog, so now, along with his better half Maria, he has reached a world wide audience of say, thirteen?
The Diminutive One looks splendid here, don't you think?

4 Blocks

On a rare bright, sunny day, The Diminutive One and I took a stroll along Pedro de Valdivia. In the space of about 4 blocks we saw the following sprayed on walls. Apparently, Punk is not dead. Also, gay sailors like graffiti. Jesus lives.

On the way home we both stopped to look at a big newish apartment block, with a fancy roof. It took me about 10 seconds to realise that I lived in that big newish building, though not in the fancy roof. It's amazing what you can see when the smog lifts.

New Boots on the 11th Floor

I hate the word "musing", although not as much as the word "musings". In the world of Blogs this must surely be the most overused of words. Fifteen minutes surfing usually unearths several "musings", sometimes coupled in an unholy alliance with "thoughts and musings". A typical example would be

"The thoughts and musings of an unstable Gemini". Oh do shut up.

There is a certain arrogance in writing a blog. It assumes that people are interested in what you have to say. In the case of The Empanada it was just seemed a lot quicker than writing group e mails and avoided the usual question of "What's Chile like?" . The counter at the bottom of this website just goes to show how many people have stumbled across this website while looking for recipes.

I'm afraid I don't have any new photos to post. After the photo fest of weddings and Australia it has all gone a bit dry. A grey, polluted, slightly soggy Santiago does not lend itself to fascinating photos. I was tempted to post a snap of my new, especially imported Doc Marten's boots, but this struck me as slightly desperate (and was also a bit "I am three - do you like my new wellies?"). I took a nice photo of The Diminutive One in the lift the other day, although I am thinking of expanding it into a series of lift shots. As I live on the 11th floor (with a bearded stoner, little rich girl dog lover and mute pregnant lady) I tend to spend considerable time in the lift. From 1 to 11 is about 10 seconds, minimum 20 seconds per day, minimum 2 minutes per week. That's more than three hours a year. Hard to believe and fascinating stuff.

Photos of my new boots in the lift to follow shortly.